


WOLF OF THE EAST

by your_taxidermy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Fantasy, Multi, i've been working on this for months please kill me, viking inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_taxidermy/pseuds/your_taxidermy
Summary: Set out on an epic adventure through the eyes of Torsten of Lindholm, the legendary White Wolf. Through his eyes, you will see horror, death, romance, and angst. His homeland is being wiped out by the Empire of Trondheim, a tyrannical nation filled with religious extremists, underground practitioners of magic, witch hunters, and monster breeders. Innocents are burned alive for the suspicion of magic use, tensions are high. Follow the story of Torsten, son of Asmund, as he defends his home while reuniting with old friends and lovers.CAST-TORSTEN OF LINDHOLM. THE WHITE WOLF - BROCK O'HURNKYRA OF DONCASTER - THE RED HAWK  -DARIA SIDORCHUCKJANNEKA OF TRONDHEIM -  THE SORCERESS- RACHEL DASHAEHANNIBAL BLACKWOOD - REVOLUTIONARY, LEADER OF THE SLUM REBELLIONISOLD OF LINDHOLM - THE PHOENIX - KATHERYN WINNICKMATILDA OF THE SHEYE ISLES -THE HUNTRESS - LYNDSY FONSECASHARIAN LORAKRAN -  TELEMANCER & CYROMANCER-  VERIDIANO TESCHASMODEUS NIKAS - INCUBUS - AVAN JOGIAHIS ROYAL MAJESTY, KING GREGOR REZNIK OF TRONDHEIM -  VINCENT VON THIENHER ROYAL MAJESTY OF AKKAD - QUEEN OF TRONDHEIM , ALIMA REZNIK - DEEPIKA PADUKONE





	1. THE WOLF

The Wolfgang tribe, native to Kaldr, eastern Lindholm, had rested deep within the mountains for centuries. Left undisturbed, the people thrived among themselves, winning wars, expanding their land, the Wolfgang people lived freely and as they pleased. The first son of every family was taken away to train in the wild to become an expert hunter and monster slayer. The sons were held to high standards; weekly, boys over the age of 8 years old would intensely train until they couldn't hold their wooden swords. Wolfgangs valued tradition, many outsiders had spoken against the treatment the boys faced, but that did not stop them from doing this.

 

East Lindholm was filled with rich waters, high mountain top, deep forests and harsh winters. Wolfgangs had grown used to such environment, they were quick to become expert trackers and hunters. Even children had to survive the harshness of these lands, children by the ages of 12 could skin animals and pick barriers without eating something poisonous. With such strong bonds, they protected one another with their lives. The rest of the world seemed to be fighting for land and gold while Wolfgangs prided themselves in being noble and honorable.  Their village was perhaps two miles long, wooden and stone house on every corner, blacksmiths, swordsmen, and inn keepers were scattered about the small strip of land. Things were quite boring until he was born.

 

* * *

 

 

The news that the wolf was born spread rather fast, the entire town went to watch his birth. It was quiet until he was born.

 

**_The White Wolf_ **

 

Torsten of Lindholm. The Wolfgang tribe believed that the first son born on November 1st on a blue moon was The White Wolf. When Torsten was born, he was put to work much faster than the others. At age 7, he was trained to hold a sword and shield. His father made sure he was very well-rounded in just about everything. Archery, one handed swords, two handed swords, he was pushed to his limit every time he trained. He was over-worked throughout his life, by the time he was 16, he already had plenty of monsters under his belt. Ghouls, trolls of all kinds, the hearts of Succubi, and the wings of harpies. Torsten was quick to help those in need, no matter the reason. While he preferred to get paid for his service, he didn't push it. While his other comrades only worked for pay, Torsten was different. He was satisfied with bringing them the head of the beast.

 

 

* * *

 

Despite Lindholm being a kingless country, the people managed to keep some peace among themselves. Like most men in his family, Torsten went to Ironspell, a school for master monster slayers, soldiers of fortune, mages, or anyone wanting a field of magic. Outsiders were not given a warm welcome until they proved themselves. Torsten studied tracking and light magic, it served him well throughout his travels. He'd gone for 8 years, there was only so much he could learn in his Wolfgang tribe. Their existence was being threatened by the Trondheim Empire, unfortunately. Trondheim was much more powerful than Lindholm, they were soon to be conquered by their enemy in the coming months. And yet, the Wolfgangs stood strong and protected their land.

 

While Torsten was at Ironspell, he made several friends who swore to have his back for the rest of their lives. Fenrir, a fellow Wolfgang native had traveled along side with him to Ironspell. Nothing could separate the two, they'd saved each other's lives, protected each other, anything a Shieldbrother would do for a friend.

 

By the time Torsten and Fenrir had returned to their village after several years of training, everything was in order. Fenrir went back to his pregnant wife, Caroline. Torsten was never one for romance, as he grew bored very quickly. One night stands were much easier, the random woman he spent a night with wouldn't give a damn if he died. He wouldn't want to put a real lover through the heartbreak of death.

 

But to his surprise, his life was saved by a woman of many talents, Matilda. A huntress, bard, and herbalist, she saved him from a frost worm while he was on the brink of death. He'd been bitten with its razor sharp fangs, causing his body to become stiff. He'd never forget seeing her charge the beast, luring it away from his weakened body. Even though he was about to lose an arm, he couldn't deny she looked absolutely gorgeous with her bow in hand. With such grace her arrow ripped through the monster's flesh, its sticky tar-like blood staining the frozen ground. She nursed him back to health, being completely unaware of who he was.

 

They always had a way of finding each other in their own travels. Matilda never stayed with him long, perhaps a night or two, drinking themselves to death until the drunkest one is singing upon a roof top. Sadly, Torsten's duties strained them. It was best for both of them to agree on finding each other in their travels, assuming one of them didn't get turned into stew by some old hag of a witch.

 

Torsten was brutal, to make it simple. All he'd ever known was fighting. Matilda changed that about him. She was... soft. She felt things extremely deeply and her emotions drove her actions. Torsten hated it and loved it about her. Matilda felt things so strongly so Torsten didn't have to. He was drawn to her strength and her ability to stay strong in times of crisis. Despite her kindness and patience, she didn't tolerate disrespect. She was by no means arrogant but she knew her place in life, she challenged Torsten when he was acting particularly rude. His White Wolf status put him on a pedestal, making him arrogant at times. She respected him but she would always hold the fact that she saved his life above his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The White Wolf was not considered human, Wolfgangs considered them to be wolf souls trapped in human bodies. He was not treated like a human, he was treated and respected like a wolf. The title of White Wolf had some controversy to it throughout the lands. Trondheim was not welcome to such ideas, in fact, Trondheim was filled with witch hunters, religious priests on every street, prisons for mages, monster breeders, and anything else they saw as unholy. Despite their strict laws on magic and the supernatural, a Sorceress by the name of Janneka was able to keep her powers a secret. Until she was captured and was going to be publicly burned at the stake. Thankfully, captain of the guard suggested they use her powers as a way of torture. This meant Jan would have to make her brothers and sisters suffer by her very hand. To keep her life, she followed orders and before she knew it, she was treated like somewhat of a human being. The Witch Hunters followed the orders of religious priests, who were corrupt, they didn't really care what the hunters did. They approved their use of Jan, they only wanted to cleanse her of her unholy blood after each session. This required cutting her hand with a silver knife and draining at least a cup of her blood and allowing it to simmer under a holy flame. This was the only way Janneka could survive. When they didn't need her service, she was allowed to walk around the city. All mages were under a watchful eye when in the streets, most of the citizens hated them. They were banned from certain shops, Jan hated it but she loved her country nonetheless. In truth, the Priests of the Merciful ruled  Trondheim, not the king.

 

Wolfgang tribe, 9:AM 

Torsten had been awake for several hours, he did his usual errands around the town but he didn't have much to do, monster slaying wise. There were no contracts on the public board, he figured he use today to recover from yesterday's intense battle with a flock of harpies. He had been injured, getting a deep slash on his side. He tried to ignore the pain before going to the herbalist for pain medicine. Even to him, their claws did a number on him. Torsten sighed, beginning to exit his home, feeling the eyes of many follow him. "Aye! White Wolf, come by the inn tonight, there's some high stakes with cards!" Called a local inn keeper from the keep window. "I'll be there, save me some mead, will ya?"  Torsten felt a warm sensation going down his leg and into his boot. He looked down only to see his shirt soaked with blood. "I swear..." He mumbled to himself, letting out a heavy sigh.

 

He began walking towards the herbalist, he stopped in his tracks when he felt a pair of soft hands grab his shirt. He looked down to see the sweet face of a child. "Yes, Hennrick?" he asked, looking down at the boy. "Are you hurt, wolf?" he asked, pointing to the blood on his cotton shirt. "It's nothing... only a scratch, now run along, I have to see the herbalist." Torsten faintly smiled, watching the boy run off. The herbalist saw the two boys talk from her window, her face lit up with a smile. Torsten was never one to be good with children but he tried his best, it normally ended with him telling the child horror stories of his fights with beasts.

 

"Torsten, hurry up in here before you bleed out." called the elderly woman, leaving her door cracked for him. Torsten huffed, continuing his walk to her shack.

 

"Sit, child, sit." the woman gestured to the seat, rolling up her sleeves. "Take off your shirt."

 

He perked a brow, pulling his shirt off of his muscled body. His entire body was covered in scars, burn marks, healed gashes that turned into prominent scars, just about everything a human could imagine. She examined the wound, cleaning the dry blood around the opening. He exhaled slowly, fighting off the urge to grown. She grabbed her mixing bowl and began to crush up an assortment of plants. He leaned over to see what she was doing.  

 

"Muthoth and... Lavender?" he asked, taking a whiff of the mixture.

 

"Yes... my mother always used this on my wounds when i was a young lass."

 

"I see... thank you, miss..." Torsten laid back on the wooden bench, looking at the hanging plants that dangled above him. His muscles soon relaxed when he felt the cooling sensation of the ointment on his gash. "Oh, White Wolf, how does one have so many scars?" she asked, looking at his scar covered front. "The life of a monster slayer is not always pretty..." he trailed off, looking up at her as she stood above him. Torsten closed his sapphire colored eyes, slowly sitting up. "Keep it clean, Wolf. You're our precious boy, Wolfgang needs you here." The herbalist smiled, placing her dry hands on his shoulder, his skin felt like a winter night against her palm. "You're so cold, child. Get some rest, keep applying the mix daily and you'll be healed in no time."

 

 

 

He smiled, giving her a nod. "Thank you, I'll be seeing you. And I'll be expecting my bloody shirt back too."

 

 

* * *

 

He instantly felt better after his trip to the herbalist. He slipped the mixture in his pocket, letting his muscular shoulders slouch for a second. His long dark blonde hair fell over his face, The Wolf looked like an angelic figure, he was so beautiful standing there in the snow with his hair softly blowing. His thoughts began to wonder, he didn't even realize he was standing outside the herbalist's shack without a damn shirt on. He looked up at the sky, small droplets of snow falling on his porcelain skin. Torsten began to walk again, following the path back to his home. He wasn't in the right conditions to go out and explore the rest of Lindholm on horseback, he grew annoyed with the situation. "Damnit...' he thought to himself, finally making his way to him wooden home. It was empty, the light and warmth of the fire was his only company. One would think the Wolf would have a wolf companion...

 

Torsten sighed, leaning against the door, watching the fire with his crystal blue eyes. The fire flickered within them as if show casing his inner thoughts. He chewed on his lip, listening to the beautiful sounds from outside his home. He began walking closer to the fire, playing with his fire ability. "De...In.. Igni.. In...de." Torsten muttered in a raspy tone, watching the flames flicker off and on. He allowed the flames to burn as he tossed a few stacks of lumber into the fire.

 

"Torsten?" said a soft voice outside his door. He faintly smiled, walking over to the door to greet the stranger. Well, no stranger to him.

 

"Kyra, do come in." he gestured her in before she could say anything. The red haired woman gladly accepted his invite. "White Wolf, I'm happy to see you after so many years... How long has it been?"

 

"Ten years, I would say. Damn... I'm old." 

 

"Oh, shut it, Torsten, saying you're old is like saying Trondheim cares about its people. You're what? Twenty-Eight?"  Kyra inquired, lifting one of her brows.

 

"Twenty-nine." his tone dripped with disappointment but he masked it with a smile. "And you, dear Kyra, are still a young lass. What are you doing these days? What brings you to my village?" torsten asked with childlike curiosity

  

She took a step closer to him, examining his scared face.

 

"I came to see you, aren't we friends?"

 

"Of course we are. You know I would walk to the ends of the earth for your sake."

 

* * *

 

"Please, Torsten, enough with the fruity nonsense. I need your help."

  

_'Fucking of course, she needs my help, why wouldn't she?'_

 

"Ahh, what a sight. Kyra, or better known as Red Hawk, of Doncaster, needs the help of the White Wolf. What is it I can do?"

 

Kyra rolled her eyes, missing his dry humor and sarcasm.

 

"In case you've forgotten, my face isn't exactly welcome in every land."

 

"Wonder why." He replied flatly, taking a seat by the fire.

 

"Pardon me, I'm not the noble White Wolf, I steal from the very people who would chop that pretty little head off if they knew what you were." Kyra cared for Torsten but at times, he didn't understand her line of work: Thief of virtue. She was no beggar only a helper. At least, that's how she saw it.

 

"Fine, I'll help. When and where?"

 

"Beggar's Hole, I need to make a..." she trailed off, trying to make it seem legitimate.

 

"A what?  I need to know before I can assist."

 

"A delivery. and I don't want to go alone. I've bad blood with a couple gangs there."

 

"I'll come with you then, I wouldn't let you go alone, little hawk." Torsten smiled, pushing his hair out of his face.

 

"Thank you, Torsten, really. Meet me at Beggar's Hole in three days, okay?"

 

"Alright, Ky. Farewell." the cherry haired maiden left without a sound, closing the door behind him. The Wolf put his hair back, tying his ocean of hair in a long pony-tail. "Kyra... never stays out of trouble." he grumbled, rolling his shoulders. He looked outside his window, the sun at its peak in the sky. It was a cold winter afternoon, he needed a warm bath to relax his nerves. He relaxed by the fire for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth on his bare skin.

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile, Kyra sat behind his home, watching the snow fall roll down the mountain tops from miles away. Torsten and Kyra had known each other for a good while, their friendship was off and on due to their lines of work. Kyra spent most of her time in the slums, hiding her identity from the masses. Kyra didn't like killing, she did her best to avoid it. Torsten didn't care. He could kill a thousand men without batting an eye. His past is partly to blame for this. From the time he was a child, he was trained to kill without a second thought. Kyra had a good heart. she did. Torsten knew she did. To him, she was too good for this cruel world. Ky found safety in his arms, but unfortunately, Torsten's arms weren't always open.

 

Three Days Later, Beggar's Hole, Lindholm

 

Ah, Beggar's Hole, the trash dump for all of Lindholm. Nestled in one of the many slums of Lindholm, this lovely place was home to dwarf gangs, prostitutes, thieves, con artists, and monster breeders. Torsten hated it, but he wouldn't let his friend go there alone. Kyra had already made her way inside, she waited in a hidden corner, away from prying eyes.

 

Torsten was on horseback, peacefully trotting up the path to meet the gates. "Citizen." One of the guards stated watching him slide off his steed. "Guards." He replied, walking his mare over to the shed, allowing her to rest while he did his work. The mare happily ate the hay, watching her master leave her. Torsten walked into the gates, his eyes examining the empty streets. The only light the city had were a few torches, giving the dirt roads a soft glow. Sneezing, coughing, and wheezing rang throughout the small city, the sick were displayed on the sidelines, holding their dirt-stained hands for only a few coins.

 

The Wolf continued his walk, trying to find Kyra. She was hidden very, very well, even Torsten couldn't find her as quickly as he wanted. Cheap looking inns were spaced out, only a few markets looked trustworthy, not to mention most of the meat probably wasn't cattle... Necromancers and cannibals swarmed to this place like flies to honey. He hated it here, it felt like he was being watched at her turn. Dark and prying eyes followed his every move, gang henchmen mocking his movements. Torsten didn't respond, knowing it would only cause more trouble. 'Where is this woman.." he thought to himself, growing impatient. But he knew it was for her safety to hide her face from these people.

 

"White Wolf..." Kyra whispered as he got closer to her hiding spot. She stepped out for only a second, just to pull him close to her. "Alright, we need to do this quickly, I've already got a few henchmen on my trail and I'd rather not deal with them right now. okay?" She seemed shaken up, a little uneasy; of course, Torsten noticed the second she saw her. Not wanting to stress her out, even more, he only nodded. "Now, come on." Kyra urged him to follow her, not wanting to get lost without him. "And you're sure you can trust this... this.. whoever you're working for?" In truth, Kyra was suspicious, thus why she asked Torsten to tag along. "I don't know, Torsten." She replied, her voice being muffled by the cloth over her mouth. 

 

They found themselves in a back ally, how wonderful... Kyra sighed, reaching into her pocket to pull out the delivery: a handful of pearls made into a necklace, precious gems, and folded piece of parchment paper. "And which unlucky bastard did you rob, this time, Hawk?" He asked, his expression still staying colder than ice. "The Duchess, I do my job well, Wolf." She replied, pushing on one of the bricks. A part of the wall slid open, allowing the two to walk in with ease. It was damp and stuffy, Torsten found it difficult to breathe. He inhaled deeply, gathering himself before walking with her. "And where does this lead?" He just wanted to get this terrible job over with; a master monster slayer walking around in some dank thieves' hole? Please...

"Hawk, you're here. Took you long enough. You know I don't like waiting." A voice stated from beyond a table. They found themselves in a decent looking sewer, so very ironic... Henchmen were against the brick walls, waiting to strike. Torsten didn't like it. He had to resist the urge to pull out his sword, but for Ky's sake, he behaved himself. "Who's your friend?" The gentleman asked, gesturing for them to walk closer. "Torsten of Lindholm... The Wolfgang tribe." Torsten replied in a flat monotone. Kyra tossed him the treasure, hoping he'd be pleased with her findings. "And you are?" Torsten asked, walking in front of Kyra. The henchman quickly went into action, pulling out daggers, hoping they would startle him. "Calm yourselves, men..." instantly, they relaxed themselves. "I don't tell my name to those who don't work for me, boy. Your kind aren't welcome, whatever you are, a mercenary, we don't welcome you. Kyra should know better. Beggar's Hole isn't for you so called wolves. Get out of my city." The stranger snapped, making strong eye contact with Torsten.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Now... about your pay, Hawk. You did as promised... But..."

 

"No, I want my full pay. Two-hundred gold. I'm not letting you cheat me out of my pay for a second time."

 

"Watch your tongue, Hawk, before I have my men cut it out."

 

Torsten shot him a bone-chilling glare. "Do all thieves cheat each other out of gold. or is that just you?" He asked, grabbing Ky's arm to pull her closer. He hated it down here, he hated these men, he hated this leader. Torsten wanted to draw his sword right about now. "Silence, White One! Hawk, you broke a rule, you don't get full pay. One-Fifty. Get out before I make you." He tossed her a bag of gold then gestured for them to get out. "Let's go, Torsten... I'll deal with this later." Ky turned around, feeling Torsten's arm go around her back. He didn't trust these freaks, he'd rather a knife in his arm than in her back. "Fucking thieves have no loyalty... no wonder my kind isn't welcome among them." He slammed the door behind him, letting out an annoyed gruff. "See why I dragged you out here?" Ky asked, leaning against the wall, watching people walk around the street from a distance. "Remind me to get your gold back... with interest." Torsten wasn't going to let some glorified beggar cheat her out of her earned money. "Torsten, I don't want you getting hurt."

 

"Me? Hurt? Please, Kyra, you clearly doubt my abilities." she punched his arm, removing the scarf from her mouth. "Fine, bring me gold with interest and I'll be happy." Torsten smiled faintly, gently grabbing her hand. "I could use a drink... nothing better than cheap mead in a rat infested city." For once, he was tired, but he knew Kyra was still on edge from the previous events... "Let's go, Wolf."

 

The two relaxed inside the inn, watching the townspeople mumbled among themselves. "Torsten?" Kyra asked, running her index finger around the rim of her drink. "Yes?" he asked, resting his chin on his hand. "They call you the White Wolf, but I've heard others call you an Iron Wolf. Why is that?"

  

He leaned back, resting his bottom lip on the rim of the cup. "I am an Iron Wolf because I was the first one born in a blue moon in November to enter Iron Spell. My tribe honors wolves to the highest extent, everything we do is to honor them. I'd trained in tracking and light magic, my father, and his father did the same. Everyone in my family had hunted at least one monster, it's what we were trained to do. There's few like us in this world... Iron Spell is slowing down thanks to those Trondheim dogs..."

 

He growled under his breath, getting distracted by the very thought of them.

 

Torsten cleared his throat before continuing.

 

"Until we die, we are to honor our ancestors and hunt monsters as they come. As for me... their prized White One, I will one day lead the tribe." He poured himself another drink.

 

"I almost feel sorry for those who don't have a choice in the matter. All you do is hunt monsters and you'll lead the tribe... what if Trondheim ends up killing all of you?"

 

"Then they do. That doesn't mean I'll let them."

 

Torsten's eyes locked onto her's, but not in an aggressive way... almost like a soft gaze. "I always learn something new when I speak with you. I wish we could have more time together."

 

Torsten chuckled, his eyes glancing at the bard tuning her lute. "Ahh, it reminds me of my lady love..." he paused, watching Ky's eyes light up. "Do tell, White One!"

 

Before she could say anything, Ky heard the light strums of a lute, a tender female voice began to echo through the room. Torsten looked up to find a beautiful bard, listening to her soft notes.

**_Hath any loved you well, down there,_ **

****

**_Summer or winter through?_ **

****

**_Down there, have you found any fair_ **

****

**_Laid in the grave with you?_ **

****

**_Death’s long kiss a richer kiss_ **

****

**_Than mine was wont to be–_ **

****

**_Or have you gone to some far bliss_ **

**_And quite forgotten me?""_ **

****

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

He smiled faintly, his mind traveling to his old sweetheart Matilda. The sharp-witted bard in training hadn't been seen in a number of years, he tried to erase her memory until the time was right.

 

"Her name was Matilda, she was a huntress and bard. She... saved my life. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here right now. I remember it like it was yesterday... I'd been asked to investigate a frost worm's nest and to my surprise, it was an 80-foot worm that just so happened to have laid eggs. It was a difficult fight. It thrashed around, I could've sworn the mountains were trembling. I'd gotten bitten and I tried to resist but my body became stiff and I couldn't hold my sword." Torsten sighed, thinking back to that moment.

 

"I heard her shout, luring it away from me. I watched as her arrows rip through the beast, its blood staining the ground. To complete this lovely tale... she nursed me to health by her camp. She made potions to ease the pain. Sooner or later, I could move without a problem." His eyes went dark, Kyra could see he was hurting.

 

"Mel had the most beautiful ocean blue eyes, they changed colors during the seasons. Winter was green, summer was brown, and spring was blue. She smelled of roses and dragon's lilac, Mel was like no other... Words aren't enough to describe the woman. She loved to sing, in fact, she used to sing this song every night to relax after a hunt." He sounded like a teenage boy, Ky only listened and found herself feeling bad for the two.

 

"I can tell you miss her, Wolf. It's written all over your face. Where is she now?"

 

"I wish I knew. She and I had a tendency to... fight. The last time I saw her, she told me she had much to do. I still don't know what." Torsten tried to forget about her in moments like this, he was torn; Matilda could have meant so much with that.

 

Hours had past and everything seemed to settle down. Kyra's eyes had begun to droop, she tried to keep them open but soon failed. "Wolf... I think... I drank too much. I feel like I've been dragged by a damn swamp ogre." Torsten nodded, sliding her last drink away from her. "I'll take you home, Ky." His voice had changed, he was normally so gruff but for once, he sounded so soft and gentle. It even caught Ky off guard. "No...No, it's night time. Let the horses rest, I'll sleep here." He nodded, gesturing for her to stay so he could pay for a room.

 

* * *

 

Kyra rested her head on her arm while he paid. She was already falling asleep, sitting by the inn's cozy fire. "Come, it's upstairs. Can you walk?" The Wolf asked, doing a swift hand motion to put out the candle on the table. "Y-Yeah... I can." The moment the girl tried to stand, she was wobbly and unsteady. Torsten responded quickly and didn't let her fall. "For the love of Freya, I'll carry you." Torsten put one hand under her thigh and the other on her upper back. Slowly, he lifted her feet from the ground and began taking her up the stairs. Ky turned to jelly in his arms, resting her head on his chest. "Torsten... Thank you, so much." She mumbled in a drunken haze. Torsten laid the girl on the bed, pulling off her boots and placing them beside her. She sloppily covered herself up with the sheepskin, leaving her feet to stick out.

 

"Didn't your mother tell you monsters will grab your feet if you keep them out?" he joked, pulling the cover over her feet. "Mhmm, yeah, but how could a monster grab them if their worst nightmare is standing next to me?" Kyra smiled, looking up at him. "Sleep, Hawk." He went to turn his back to leave, but to his surprise, he felt a pair of weak hands grab his fingertips. "Please stay, Wolf. Just for the night, the company would be nice and... and..." she trailed off slowly, feeling her stomach drop from the secret nervousness she was feeling. "And?"

 

Torsten asked, turning towards her. Ky sighed, sitting up, resting herself on her elbows. "And it's wouldn't be a terrible thing to have your watchful eye around as I sleep, because we all know you don't sleep." The Wolf only nodded, taking a seat beside her, scooting the chair closer to the bed. "As you wish, Kyra. Sleep well knowing I am by your side."

 


	2. Phoenix of the Merciful

 

Kyra had slept soundly, not moving a muscle throughout the cold night. The Wolf watched over her sleeping body, not getting an ounce of sleep for himself. He'd been trained to stay awake for days on end, it finally came in handy. 

 

The girl shifted, stretching out her arms and legs. "Morning, Wolf..." she muttered, sitting up, allowing herself to lean on the wooden board. "Morning, Hawk. Get ready, I saw some henchmen, they looked like your boss's, or whatever the **fuck** that little worm calls himself." 

 

"They call him Rex, which means 'king.' no one really knows his name." 

 

"Oh, king of _what?_ The whorehouse?" he scoffed, taking a sip of his water pouch. 

 

"You clearly haven't seen what he's done to those who anger him. Cutting out their tongues or eyes? Come on, can't deny that's horrible, Torsten." She sat on the edge of the bed, slipping her leather boots on. "I've heard and done worse. That rat is nothing but a child to me. I still haven't forgotten about your coin, either." The Wolf had no feelings when it came to violence, nothing made him question his humanity, at times, he felt like he had none. It didn't seem to bother him , it just made it easier to take a life, is all. 

 

Kyra was ready in a few moments, she just had to finish running her fingers through her long locks. "Okay, Wolf, C'mon. We should get back to Kaldr, I hate staying here longer than I have to."  With that, the two slipped out of the inn, avoiding contact with guards, beggars, and henchman. 

 

_ Wolfgang Tribe - 3PM _

 

* * *

 

Hawk and Wolf made their way back his tribe, tying their horses up in the stable. "Thank you, Torsten. I should be on my way back to Doncaster, it's a long trip but it's worth it. Kaldr is too cold for my tastes." Kyra couldn't stand the cold - her native land was famous for their warm and perfect summers, something Torsten was not friendly with. " _Salvum_ itineribus _, Hawk._ " She bowed, her hair falling like a waterfall over her face. "And safe travels to you, too, White One." Kyra was off on foot, Torsten watched as her body became smaller in the distance, until she disappeared into the wilds. 

 

Now, onto the so-called king, Rex. Torsten was ready to handle him. Though he had other matters to attend to, his sword arm hadn't been used in several days, training the young ones would do him some good. The moment the children laid eyes on him, all he could hear was _"Master! The White Wolf! Torsten!"_ They never knew what to call him. He responded to all, not being able to help a smile. "Little wolves, I see. I can see Ironspell in your future, swing your sword just right and the elders will take you in a blink of an eye." The children rushed to get their heavy swords, attempting to swing at the dummy targets. Torsten watched, pointing out their mistakes and praising their successes. He thought back to his first days, he could barley lift a damn sword, his arms were so weak, he dropped it each time he tried. 

"Wrong, never tense your arms, I can see the muscles tightening. Try again." Oh, lord, once he started talking like Master Falkenburg, he lost all sensitivity, assuming he had any, to begin with. Again, the young boy swung the sword at the dummy's neck, his arms tightening again. "Try again, let me show you." Torsten jumped from the three-foot ledge, taking the heavy sword from the boy's small hands. "Like this.

The Wolf swung the steel sword with such strength and grace. The boys watched in awe as he attacked the wooden dummy, using all his might. The post shook, sending vibrations through the sword and into his arms. Several years ago, that would've knocked him back, but now, it was nothing more than run of the will tickles. His weapon gleamed under the sun's harsh rays, almost blinding his eyes. Lastly, he did a final spin, getting the sword stuck in the post. A heavy breath left his dry lips, feeling the thin layer of sweat that gathered in his hands. "Now, pull it out." He commanded, taking a step back to watch. "Be ** _QUICK_ ** about it, if your sword gets stuck in a dragon's skin and there's another forktail behind you, what will you do if you're lolligagging?" he almost snapped, watching the child pull the sword from the post, trying not to drop it. 

* * *

 

Torsten watched the other boys do the same exercise, perfecting their skills each time. Hours had passed and the boys were worn out. "Master Lupus, I'm so tired..." groaned a boy, walking over to him with his head low. "Do not walk to me with your head down, child. Head up and tell me again, there are no meek whispers in this tribe." His voice was strong undefeated and unbreakable. Quickly, the boy lifted his head and stated again: _Master Lupus, I'm so tired."_

 

"Let the boys rest, Torsten. Aren't you the one who harps on rest before dawn?" asked a female voice, getting closer by the seconds. "Isold, I don't need you to-" 

"Be silent, brother.  I ask you, let them go." She cut him off, now standing right behind him. "Isold, you traitor. But still my dear sister." Torsten replied, looking down at her. "Don't make me laugh, a traitor because I go to distant lands to become something more than a Wolfgang healer? Pfft, perish the thought. Trondheim has much better to offer." 

 

"Don't you _dare_ mutter the name of that filthy, backward country in the middle of my tribe, Isold." He snapped, dropping his sword. 

 

"YOUR tribe? If your name isn't Falkenburg, this isn't your tribe. You're just its signature player. How dare you call this your tribe when our master is still going strong." Isold grew tired of him, she was the only person who told him off, he needed that at times. Torsten couldn't prove her wrong so he only huffed. 

 

"What brings you here, anyway? Dressed in your steel plated armor and sword..."

 

"I'm on my way to Doncaster. just another day's walk and I'll be there. I was asked to bring in someone, the name can not be disclosed." Torsten raised a brow, taking a step closer to her. "I'm your brother, tell me." Shit, he was in for a rude surprise. 

 

"Haha, no can do, Wolf. Special orders from his Royal Majesty to keep our mouths closed." 

 

"You listen to that dog? I thought you were better than that." Torsten scoffed, shaking his head. 

 

"Torsten?" Isold asked. 

 

"What?" 

 

* * *

* * *

 

He got a strong taste of the back of her hand. "Do not ever... ever insult his Royal Majesty like that again, you uncivilized dog!" she shouted, watching her hand print turn bright red. "My people disgust me, we train children like dogs, send them off to schools where they may die a slow death or become wrapped in the evils of magic, keep women in their place, and you think TRONDHEIM  is bad?" her voice filled the arena, causing the beady eyes of children to look over. Torsten glared harshly. 

"Your lovely Trondheim wants to ethnically cleanse my home and you are so foolish to ignore that? Why come here if you work in such a nation?" The two went off for a good 30 minutes, firing back and forth. 

 

"I'm leaving, Torsten. I may see you on the battlefield one day, and if I ever do, may the Merciful forbid it, I will not hesitate to take your life." 

 

Isold stormed off, jumping on her mare. 

 

Not many people knew about Torsten's younger sister, Isold. She kept it that way, she left years ago to live in Trondheim to pursue her dreams of becoming a member of the Circle,  skilled in healing and the sword always kept on her back. Trondheim forged her from their holy flames and crafted her to be a holy saint to honor and protect the country. Isold did just that- she forgot all her Wolfgang traditions and teachings to rest under the wings of her superiors, allowing them to show her the way. Little knew the dark secrets Trondheim held when it came to their circle members, anyone who was even suspected of knowing was killed on sight. Isold knew if Torsten found out, she could not let him live with that. Having the ability to erase memories, if she couldn't best him in battle, she would be forced to use her magic against his mind. All members knew some form of witchcraft; Isold was skilled in destruction magic and fire - gaining her the title "Phoenix of the Merciful." 

  

Isold gained her title rather quickly, working her way to the top day by day. She took her duties to heart and did everything she could to serve her country. Her nationalism had gone to her head, causing her to ignore the criticism people had of her nation. 

 

Being the younger sibling of the Wolf, she had lower expectations. She hated it. She begged and begged to train with a sword and shield but was harshly rejected each time. Now at 25,  the girl carries her sword on her back, ready to slay any beast that treads on her path. Standing at 5'8, she has a way of intimidating her way into things, not caring who she had to get through. Some call her selfish, others call her strong, she feels entitled to respect. Circle members are told they are vessels of The Merciful, she was told His holy flamed burned inside her belly. She was his giver of justice, His sword, his fire, his chaotic streak, and his human vessel. Isold believed this with all her heart, acting in ways she saw fit. The Merciful was not only a God of mercy but a God of power. Isold wanted power, deep down she would be a tyrant. The Circle battled with themselves; it seemed like their own self-images corrupted them. 

 

Few would describe Isold as cruel or unkind... Indeed, Isold was a vessel of The Merciful. Not many understood her kindness. To her, an act of kindness was killing a mage to protect the world.  She cared for her people and country, but often times didn't know how to express it. 

Isold was beautiful, simply beautiful. Her hair was light blond, ending at her mid back. Often times her hair was down, flying about in the wind, creating an imperfect masterpiece. Her eyes were ocean blue, they could make confident men shake in their boots and she knew it. All she had to do was shoot a glare and they'd be kissing her damn feet. 

 

The woman cooed her mare, lightly pulling on her leather reins to slow her. “Oooh, easy, girl,” Isold whispered, jumping off of her. Isold sighed, thinking of Torsten, who was unknowingly ignorant of his own fate. There was a reason she stopped to see him: it may have been the last time she ever saw him. Isold was fighting with herself, she didn't tell her own brother his fate, yet… she felt herself feeling guilty for biting her tongue. “May He watch over you, brother.” She whispered, gripping the handle of her sword. Without a struggle, she unsheathed her blade, watching the sun shine upon it. Isold stabbed the ground with all her might, imagining the earth trembling under her feet. She rose her arms into the air, feelings a barrier form around her and her weapon. _“Voco te_ dominum _!”_

 

Without seconds, she could see the face of her leader through a portal. 

 

“I have summoned you, master.” She said in English, bowing her head. 

 

“Yes, my child? What have you learned on the tribe?”

 

“The White Wolf is there, it is peaceful. They won't be expecting an attack so suddenly.” 

 

“Wonderful to hear, Phoenix. You've done Trondheim a great service, it will not forget. We shall arrive on the break of dawn. For now, His Royal Majesty, asks you to stay close by in case we need your aid.The pest Kyra will have to wait... Though I doubt we'll be needing it, fighting savages with silly myths shan't be difficult.” 

 

Isold felt pained again. 

 

“Yes… I will remain at my camp and wait for orders. May He guide you.” 

 


	3. The Attack

Isold warmed herself by the fire, listening to the howling wolves. “Such noble creatures…” she whispered to herself, trying to forget about her brother. Her orders came first, even before her moral standpoint. Isold’s chest tightened, her eyes became stricken with tears. Her words did not escape her, she could only express her sadness and rage through gripping her sword. She tried to speak but her words fell short. 

 

How badly she wanted to rip Kyra to shreds at this point. She didn't want to have to attack her one people, why not take it out on some lone thief, hm?”

 

“Red Hawk… may He watch over you, for nothing else will protect you from my sword.” Isold grinded her teeth, watching the sun slowly rise above the horizon. Dawn was slowly approaching. Her sword began to vibrate, her eyes darted over. Quickly, she plunged it into the ground. 

 

“It's time, Isold.” 

 

Those were the only words she heard from the elderly man. Isold wasted no time jumping on her mare, immediately racing towards the tribe. She pushed all her feelings of doubt to the back of her mind, her orders were pushing her on. The heavy sound of her mare’s hoof beats sounded like a thunder storm throughout the land. She was so close to the tribe, even Torsten could hear it. Though he didn't care about the beats, he was focusing on surviving. 

 

He'd watched the army of 500 storm into his tribe, waving their tyrannical flags. Their ebony-armored horses trotted side by side, their armor loudly ringing. General Ogden led the troop, of course holding the flag in his free hand. Torsten locked eyes onto him, watching him like a cat watching a mouse. Children went to hide, their screams of terror ringing in the mountains. The other men grabbed their swords and shields, saying their short goodbyes to their wife and children. Moments later, the army was standing in front of his village, looking down upon them. “White One, I see you’re here with your… men. Do you think these hoodlums stand a chance?” he laughed, looking as his other men. “Where is your leader?” Ogden asked, his horse walking closer to the wolf. Torsten gripped his sword handle, slowly unsheathing it. “Draw your weapon and fight. Isn’t that what you are your little roaches are here for?” He scoffed, his sword gleaming under the light. “Very well. Soldiers!” Ogden shouted, charging the opposition. 

 

Torsten stood on the frontlines, sword in hand, along side with his comrades. Fenrir looked over at him, only saying the words, “it was an honor to have known you, White One.” All the warriors stood side by side, watching the large army come to a halt. From afar, archers were ready to shoot, waiting for the right moment to strike. “Trondheim will never take us. On this day, we will die for the gods!” Torsten shouted, holding the sword into the air. 

 

Seconds after, arrows began to fly, swords clashed, blood began to spill. He fought vicariously, tearing down men in his path. Nothing would stop him, he'd given away his life for his people. He banged swords together, looking into the eyes of the Empire’s soldier, seeing nothing but a target. Their swords fought against each other, trying to push the other away. Suddenly, Torsten felt himself being pushed back by the sword. “You Empire dog!” He screamed, finally pushing the enemy back. He fell onto his back, trying desperately to save himself. With such delight, Torsten plunged the sword into his chest, going through his cloth and steel armor. 

 

Isold saw the fighting from afar, watching her brother pull the sword from the soldier. He locked eyes with her, he saw nothing but rage. Isold didn't care about him anymore. He was another enemy that needed to exterminated. She charged him, sword in hand. She just wanted it to be over. She knew they wanted him alive… so why not take his life to save him from even more pain? Their swords clashed, they looked at each other, only seeing an enemy.

* * *

 

Both their eyes glimmered with a mixture of sorrow and anger. “Isold…” he strained, pushing against her sword. “... I don't want to fight you!” Torsten pushed harder against her sword, trying to decide what to do. Isold was still his sister. He held nothing above his family, even in times like this. “Isold, stop this! You're my sister! By the gods I won't fight you!” Torsten used all his might to push her back, causing her to fall to the ground. “Damn you, Torsten!” She screamed, her voice shook, tears rested in the corner of her eyes. He watched his men fall to the ground, their numbers decreasing. Isold never saw herself crying on the battlefield, especially when her brother refused to take her on. “Damn you, White Wolf! Trondheim will consume your precious land, it will destroy you and you refuse to best me?! I knew about this attack, Wolf! Be a man and avenge your comrades!” Isold was lost in emotion, swinging her sword at him, this time the tip of her blade dragged across his skin. Blood dripped from his finger tips, staining the snow covered ground. 

 

All was lost. 

 

His home burned to the ground, every inch of farmland was turned to ashes, every tavern and inn was turned into a fiery blaze. Torsten watched as everything he knew was destroyed. Even still, Isold would not feel his wrath. He combated her attacks, finally giving in to her words. His sword slashed her face, blood dripped from her eye and onto her lip. She covered her eye with her hand, feeling the blood run through her fingers. “I'm sorry, my sister.” Torsten watched as she fell to her knees, blood dripping into her legs. She sniffled, looking up at him. 

 

“Dear brother… indeed, you've bested The Phoenix. You've taken one of my eyes. But His Royal Majesty doesn't need me to wipe this place off the face of the earth.” She couldn't tell if she was crying or the blood was just starting to feel like tears. The horrifying scent of ash and blood filled his lungs as he tried to understand the situation. His mind went to Master Falkenburg, only the gods know what will become of him. 

 

He left Isold to her own accord, only thinking of what to do next. Torsten knew he could not take on the rest of them, he was hoping to cooperate with them. “Ogden, what more of my land do you want? You've desecrated my village and slaughtered my men. What more do you want?” 

 

“The head of your chief, White One.” 

 

Torsten turned around to see his master bound by soldiers. “No. He is an elder. I will do whatever it takes to spare him.” The chief laughed. 

 

“Torsten, Son of Asmund, The White Wolf… I do not fear death. You have been a dear gift to me and this village, may nothing stop you in your path. The Gods are smiling on you, precious, sweet child…” Torsten’s stomach dropped. “Master… I will avenge you, by the gods I swear it.” Torsten got down on one knee, bowing to his master for the last time. “Now, run with the wilds, White Wolf. May the mountains shake under your feet and may fortune always smile upon you.” His words replayed in Torsten's head over and over again, watching as the executioner’s sword went through his skin and bone, his head rolling from his body. 

 

Torsten only starred, turning his head to see the smiling face of Ogden. “Now you, you filthy dog. You've nowhere to run. I suggest you come peacefully or worse will happen to you.” Torsten didn't accept defeat, he knew he'd have to work with them if he wanted to avenge his comrades. Torsten’s face was blank; he’d just watched his Master’s head roll away from his body only to have crows pick at the flesh, he watched his comrades be dragged away like sacks of potatoes, and his sister’s face become slashed by his own hand. He knew he couldn’t best an entire army and it would be foolish to try. “Drop your sword, White One.” 

 

Torsten hated to comply but his sword hit the frozen ground. “Bow before your new Empire, dog.” Ogden scoffed, expecting the man to bow after a horrible defeat. “As my Master once said, ‘never bow to the arrogant.’” he quoted. The General lifted a brow. “His hardened tongue will become soft and mellow once he gets the bitter taste of our Janneka. Put him on the wagon… The Emperor awaits.” 

 

**_“Days on this blood stained wagon, I am being carried away like a dog to Emperor Reznik. The faces of my comrades still flash every time I blink. All I can see is flames engulfing my home, my land, and my comrades. The rolling head of my Master is plastered in the back of my mind, creeping around once i feel like I’ve come to peace. How could I? I can only wonder what became of Fenrir. I can only hope the gods showed him mercy. As for my sister, I can’t say I’m not the slightest bit worried. I did not want to fight her but i had no choice. The Empire has twisted her heart and soul into something vile and unrecognizable. I am utterly disgusted with her yet I can not bare the thought of her being injured by my own hands, let alone the sharp silver of my sword. I can’t help but to wonder who this… Janneka is. Her name brings back some memories by they are distant. I can not mourn in my final hours, i only wish that my precious Red Hawk is out of harm’s reach. Isold wouldn’t go to Doncaster hours after Kyra was going back. Something isn’t right, my worries will do nothing. Sleep is my only comfort, I will be woken up by terrors no man should ever have to face, only I can not draw my sword to visions of horror and death. One would think a real monster would frighten a warrior than a simple nightmare._ **

 

**_Nightmares can’t be killed. Nightmares are immortal, they will never die. My sword will do no harm to a vision I can’t control. I have seen horrors and I have seen a man’s worst fear. There is nothing in this world that frightens me to the core other than the uncontrolled. What happened replays in my head over and over again, but I can’t stop it. I’m sure a Black Dreamer will make them even worse. A never ending nightmare and intense torture, sounds like Trondheim._ **

* * *

* * *

 

  
  


Torsten didn’t sleep for days. At least, not peacefully. He was certain Black Dreamers were plaguing him with nightmares, he probably was not wrong. The Wolf saw the huge gates of Trondheim, guards looking down on them from their watch posts up high. He closed his eyes, his lungs expanding with the burnt-tasting air. “Fire…?” He thought allowed. 

 

“Aye, must be havin’ a cookout.” a man chuckled in the wagon across. “What?” Torsten didn’t understand. “Newcomer, no? ‘Ere we say ‘cookout’ when the piggies are burnin’ ladies alive.” The man chuckled, looking over at Torsten. “Name’s Finn, pleasure to meet you.” Torsten nodded.

 

“Name’s Torsten of Lindholm - White Wolf,” he replied dryly, watching people look at him with disgust. “THE White Wolf, aye?” Finn’s eyes shot open. “Indeed.”  

 

“Shut up back there!” called a guard, stopping the wagon when they entered the gates. “Fuck off, lad might have a sword but I ain’t afraid of that - fuck your mother, bastard.” Finn fired back, hitting the bars with his fists to shake their seats. “I’m surprised Jan hasn’t killed you herself…” one muttered, jumping off the seat. Torsten tugged at his chains, feeling his skin starting to rip. “That’s enough, wolfie. You’ll meet Jan sooner or later and she’ll make those tattoos melt of your flesh.” Torsten wasn’t intimidated. “Fuck off,  _ kusse _ .” Torsten growled, kicking the cage door. The guards laughed it off. They opened the latch, dragging him out by his chains. He scraped his knees and elbows when he fell on stone ground. He lingered, his tired body struggling to lift up. 

* * *

* * *

 

“Torsten.” He heard a voice call, all too familiar at that. “SIster.” he looked up, seeing the wounded face of his sibling. A blood stained cloth wrapped around her eye. “I’ll take him from here, thank you.” Isold grabbed his chain leash and pulled him along, the clicking of her boots following behind her. People watched in awe, their fancy silks catching his eye. 

 

_ “Filthy dog.” _

_ “Mutt.” _

_ “Flea ridden.” _

 

He heard it all, all he wanted to do was ring their necks. “I don’t regret slashing your eye out if you’d parade your own flesh and blood around like a dog.” Torsten snapped, pulling against the chains. “Wolf, dog, there’s hardly a difference with your kind.” Torsten pulled on the chains again, planting his feet on the ground. Isold chuckled. “Don’t make me make a scene in the middle of town.” She threatened, stopping in his tracks. “Make a scene, sister. Please. Give the people something to watch. I’m an  _ animal _ , remember? I _ ’ll act like one.” _  He growled, locking eyes with her. He was a beast.  A wild animal, he was to act like one. Isold grew tired of his words. She walked over to him, pulling his chains down as hard as she could, his hands kissing the stone. She dug her boot into his back. “Do not make me, Torsten. Jan will deal with you.” She kicked his ribs, wasting no time dragging his chains forward. People clapped and laughed and watched as he was dragged without mercy. 

 

He found himself in the Capital Building, guards on every corner, Royals watching and whispering to themselves. Isold stood proudly, holding a wild animal behind her, covered in dirt, blood, and sweat. “May we touch the beast, I wouldn’t want to catch something awfully nasty.” Asked a noblewoman, walking over. “Of course, he won’t bite.” She chuckled, pulling his chain to her leg, cutting off his breathing for a moment. He felt her hands touch his face and hair, watching her expression change. She shuddered, pulling away. “Where is lady Janneka?” Isold asked, looking at the Circle members who were lingering. “I will call her at once.” her master replied quickly, rushing up the stairs to get Lady Jan. 

 

“My lady, the Wolfgangs are here.” Jan tilted her glasses up. “Splendid, thank you. I’ll be down shortly.” Jan replied, dog earring her page. Black Magic at another time… She huffed, folding her glasses over her book. Lady Jan was eager to meet her new rag dolls. Jan fixed the folds in her floor-length skirt, licking her finger to pick up the stray dust. Her fingers ran through her long, jet black hair, the sun making it appear blue. She walked down the stairs, her footsteps muffled by her soft flats. 

* * *

* * *

 

“Greetings.” She said calmly, looking down at the prisoners. “To those who are new, which I see many new faces.” She paused, glancing at Torsten. “I am Lady Janneka, humble servant of His Royal Majesty, scholar, and most importantly, a controlled magic user. I am most excited to see Torsten, The White Wolf.” She called from the middle steps, making her way down. She bowed before the guards. “You know of me?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Why yes, my dear. Lady Isold, our Phoenix has told  _ me  _ about you. I’ll take you from here.” Her skirt dragging behind her. “Unchain him.” She requested, pushing his hair out of his face. “My lady, he may attack.” the guard replied. 

 

“I said, unchain him. Must I say it in another language you understand?  _ Oochen Sne? wanasin lah?” _ Jan said again, growing annoyed. Torsten glared at the men surrounding him. His metal collar was removed from his neck, revealing a bruised and slightly bloodied wound. “Follow me, Torsten.” Janneka gestured him to follow and he did, like a lost puppy. His steps were shaky from lack of water, his breathing was slow and strained. “ _ Pulmones aperti _ .” The sorceress said under her breath, opening the door leading to her work chambers. A long hall lead to her workspace, candles lighting her path. Torsten’s breathing became energetic. She grinned, looking behind her. “Better?” she asked, opening the final door. “Yes, thank you, Lady Jan.” he replied, walking into her chambers. “Torsten, my dear, please take a seat.” She pulled over a chair for him. He didn’t sit down, he only leaned on the wall. “If you think about leaving, no man can break my magic barrier. Sit down, Torsten.” Jan said again, knowing he’d been told what his fate would be. “I will not willingly sit down into my own death, witch.” He hissed, kicking it away. Jan chuckled. “Torsten, kindly take a seat. I only wish to ask you questions, is that a crime?” Jan asked, lifting one of her full, dark eyebrows. “In Trondheim? Perish the thought.” He replied sarcastically. She lifted up her spellbook, skimming the words as she turned. 

 

“You’re turning into Kyra, my dear. What would she say?” Jan asked, a smiling appearing on her face. Torsten’s face went sour. “Would it be better if I used her to help you cooperate? She’s terrified of lighting, you know.” 

 

“Where is she, you bitch! I swear to the Gods I will rip your tongue from your mouth if you hurt her.” he growled, walking towards her like a predator. She pushed her hand towards him, the strength of her magic pushing him back into the wall. 

 

“You’re so weak, the mention of a girl I do not have in my reach and you are ready to kill. Good to know. Now sit.” Torsten glared at her, slowly sitting down. Jan smiled, running her fingers down his face. “Thank you, my dear. Now, answer my questions, alright?” her voice was tender, he didn’t trust her, she was a snake. A wicked, wicked woman. 

 

He nodded. 

 

“What do you remember?” 

 

“I remember the… fire. The blood, the screams, the fighting. I remember thinking oh Kyra… My dear Kyra. I remember fighting my sister, now I only wish I could’ve slashed both her eyes out.” His hands clenched the arms of the chair. “I remember seeing my Master’s head cut from his shoulders while I did nothing to stop it. The ashes of my home are stuck to my skin.” His hands dug deeper. “Isold. I remember the blood dripping down her hands. Her skin stained was dirt and ash, her hair sticking to her skin. Fenrir’s shield cracking as he body-slammed an Empire soldier with the force of the Gods.” Jan sighed, leaning against the wall. Torsten’s voice began to crack but tears did not show. “You wicked people, you’re a mage yet you’re doing their dirty work.” The Wolf hissed, looking over at her. 

 

She chuckled at his words. “You foolish man, you know nothing of me or my plans. I’ve yet to tell you, Torsten.” She replied, placing her book down. “Why am I free, you ask? I know these men well, I have gained power by working with them. Power that can help you. I can help you while being against you. You are not my enemy but I am not your friend.” Jan’s eyes grew darker, dark like a never ending abyss. 

 

“I am going to let you go, soon, but I’ve a gift for you, my dear.” 

“A gift?” 

“That’s what I said, is it not?” 

“Then what is it?”

“You’re a wolf, hm? I can make that happen - and I’m going to.” Jan’s eyes lit up in a blue glow, His face looked at her in fear and awe, feeling her hands rest on his head. 

* * *

* * *

 

**_“Sol et luna nata brumalibus diebus Virtus lupos defendunt!”_ **

Fenris’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body trembled, an electric shock traveled through his body, the muscles fighting the force. It was the worst pain he could think of experiencing. A scream left his lips, his body trembled from the sheer pain. The room shook, books falling from the shelves, candles blowing out from the force. 

 

His own imagination was his only comfort. 

 

_ “And that’s how I became a huntress, funny story, ain’t it?” Matilda chuckled, biting her bottom lip. “The story never grows old, my lady. It’s funny how you have not changed from this years ago. Like the frost-worm you saved me from, yeah? You never grow tired of holding that over my head, Mel.” Torsten replied, looking over at her friends, eating sweets and enjoying the mirthful tavern. Mel rolled her shoulders. “Did I tell you, I'll be singin’ up next? Won the bard contest last week, wish me luck when I get up there!” Torsten smiled, pulling her in for an embrace. He held her head on his chest, his body heat warming her. “I love you, Matilda, my wild huntress.”  _

 

_ “And I you, White Wolf.” the two held each other in their arms, basking in the embrace. He let her go and kissed her cheek, his lips lingering.  _

 

_ “Lady Matilda to the stage, please!” Called the director, handing her the lute. She rushed to him, the nervousness starting to fill her. “Begin when you are ready.” he said politely. “May I have a word before I begin?” “Surely.” Mel smiled.  _

 

_ “Little does the Wolf know, I wrote this… for him.” She took a deep breath a few times, relaxing her lungs.  _

 

**_Up to Ásmund, dragon slaying king. His sword’s edge defends our hearts, in his name, we love and rejoice._ **

 

**_The wolf follows me to the ends of the earth, his fur shielding me from Skadi’s storm. His teeth ripping the wind apart so I may walk peacefully._ **

 

**_His lips have tasted Skadi’s storm. I follow the wolf into Her storm, awaiting his fiery embrace. In his name, I will fight and I will love._ **

 

**_His love warms the heart of Lady Skadi, his sword makes the gods honor his name. The wolf will follow me to the end, no matter where I stray, his path will guide me so I do not lose my way in the  storm. Oh White Wolf, guide me from the storm, clear my path so I may leave a trail of arrows behind.”_ **

 

_ Matilda lowered the lute, her lips quivering softly. The crowd clapped and whistled, men patting his shoulder. Mel stepped from the stage and made eye contact with Torsten.  _

 

Memories of her played in his head as the pain died down ever so slowly. Mel was his only comfort in this moment - his screams stopped as Jan's eyes stopped glowing. "My wolf..." she whispered, catching her breath after the long wait to complete the spell. Torsten's eyes were closed, his body resting after the torture. She lifted his head up, seeing the differences in his face. "Open your eyes, wolf." With her command, his eyes shot open. His blue eyes were now a bright golden, like that of a wild wolf.  _  
_

Torsten looked into her eyes, seeing the world in a clearer way, he didn’t realize how stunning she was with her hair down and her lips barely apart. “Are you alright?” She asked, brushing his hair out of his face. “I don’t know.” he replied, sitting up, feeling his muscles ache. He touched his face, feeling for something new. “What did you do?” he asked, his now yellow eyes piercing into her. “You’re so close to being a werewolf, you don’t even realize. I gifted you with the power of a wolf, my dear. You can hear everything around you, you can see miles away, your strength is… unrivaled. But always remember…” she trailed off, her lips brushing against his ear. “I will always be more powerful than you could ever dream of being. I have the power to burn your body to a crisp with the touch of my fingers. I’ve given you a power that you may use however you fancy, but  _ do not  _ forget my power, do you understand, wolf?” Her words were chilling, the monotone of her voice adding to her presence. “I understand… what becomes of me now?” Torsten asked, his mind going to the worst. She flipped through her spell-book. 

* * *

* * *

 

“I’m sending you back, why would I keep you here? You are a living work of my design, I shan’t let that go to waste.” she replied, keeping her eyes on the pages. “You’ll be sent to Lady Ky’s home in Doncaster, or… close to it. She will find you.” She clicked her tongue after finding the spell she wanted. 

 

“You won’t go alone, Asmodeus will be with you.” 

“And whom is that?” 

“ _ Nox terrorem,  _ _ Et beatos vos!”  _

 

A cloud of black smoke filled the room, the faint shape of a body forming behind it. 

“You called?” The male voice asked. 

“I did, now, you must hurry, my dear. I can’t keep the guards waiting forever.” 

“Aww, poor little black orchid. How may I be of service?” 

“Take our friend, Torsten back to Doncaster, will you? Behave yourself or there will be hell to pay. I have you on a leash and I will not tolerate your nonsense - incubus or not, you are bound under me, don’t forget.” Jan smiled, kissing his cheek. 

 

**_“INCUBUS?!”_ ** Torsten shot, his eyes looking at the creature in disgust. “I will not have this man-whore in the same home as Kyra.” He looked at the demon, locking his eyes on him. “If she’s cute there’s no stopping me.” He teased, a smirk forming on his face. “Asmodeus, do as I say and take him elsewhere.” Jan replied, grabbing a knife from under her table. Both men looked at her. She quickly sliced her cheek with the blade, the blood dripping down. “Come, Asmo. Smear the blood.” He raised a brow, obeying her command. “You escaped, understand? I will cast a spell to make sure everyone knows. Now, go.” She spun a story to protect him, he tried to understand why but his efforts were useless. Asmo smeared the blood on her face, wanting to badly to steal a kiss from the raven witch. “Tread carefully, my dear.” Jan touched the wolf’s shoulder, tenderly looking at him. The incubus grabbed Torsten’s arm and in a flash, the two were gone. Jan was left to her own, she contemplated what she’d done. She looked at her bloodied hands, knowing this plan could go wrong at any turn. Jan thought of her boys, hoping they made it back home safe. She couldn’t wait to tell Lady Isold what supposedly happened.  


	4. Whispers From An Incubus

“F...fuck.” Torsten groaned, feeling the grass against his skin. “Where am I?” he asked, lifting his head from the ground. “We, little wolf, are at Lady Kyra’s home. Allow me to knock on her door. She’s preparing a bath, you know. Perhaps I should ask to join.” Torsten groaned, getting ready to punch his demon companion. He got to his feet and rolled his neck, already seeing Asmo knocking on her door. 

 

“Who is it?” Kyra called, quickly grabbing a robe to cover herself. “Torsten… and a friend,” he replied. Torsten…? It was news he’d been captured, there was no way he could’ve escaped. “Shut up, don’t lie. What is your name?” Ky asked again, walking closer to the door. “Move it, demon.” Torsten pushed him aside. “Kyra, open your door.” The wolf said, resting his hand on the frame. The Hawke opened the door with such force, the moment she saw his face, a wave of emotions took over. Her jaw dropped, her eyes slowly watered, and the only words she could say were “Oh, my god.” She ran a short distance into his arms, holding him like it was the last thing she’d do. Her hands gripped the back of his shirt, her hands became sore. She didn’t care about the rocks digging into her feet, she only cared about holding him. “Torsten, I thought you’d been killed, it’s been so long. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Please, stay here, you’ll be safe.” Ky’s eyes were streaming tears, wetting his shoulder. Asmo chuckled to himself. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, letting Torsten go.    
  


“Oh, my dear. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Asmodeus Nikas, Incubus, not-so-humble servant of Lady Janneka, The Raven Witch of Trondheim,  part time business man, and perhaps the night’s pleasure of Lady Kyra, The Red Hawke of Doncaster, Thief of Virtue, and the little red rose I’ll be picking.” Ky chuckled, perking a brow. “I suppose I’m letting you in. Very well, make yourselves at home, boys.” She closed the door behind them and locked her eyes on the demon. She couldn’t deny he was simply beautiful - she had to remind herself he was a demon. Selfish and self-serving. His hair was dark like burnt firewood, his eyes were sultry and evil. His skin was kissed by the sun, his face was sculpted by the gods, perfection poured into his being. His beauty was envied by both men and woman, he was a living desire. It was to be expected, the embodiment of evil and raw, uncontrolled sex, why wouldn’t he be beautiful? Part of her wished to sleep early only to see the night terror’s true colors, the fake image he displayed would be turned into ash, only for her to swallow, loving the bitter taste of hate and lust. The demon would flash a smile, his eyes telling a much different tale. His voice was sweet like warm honey, a lingering aftertaste leaving listeners craving more. He knew all too well. He gave them what they wanted, feeding off their wants and desires. His hands could be wrapped around their neck and they’d crave a tighter grip, wanting to be choked by the devil’s hand. Asmo listened, pretending to care, he danced with them, mimicking their steps to get closer. Close enough to hear their inner thoughts and deepest desires, close enough to taste their lips, knowing they wanted him more than he could ever want them. He was flawed by nature, for a demon was once an angel cast from the havens. He was arrogant, in his own mind, he was untouchable. Being with him was like playing with fire, the flames grazing the skin time and time, and yet… fingers were burned but still wanted more. He gave it all to them. Deep kisses, passion, violence, a dark fantasy filled, maybe even killing them to gain maximum satisfaction.  His touch demonic, harsh, and violent by nature. His core was filled with the hearts of victims, the flames of hell, and a false personality he painted for a new face. Asmodeus was cruel and merciless, selfish wasn’t enough to explain. The sex-driven demon saw the world as his kingdom and he was the king. Asmo was self-aware, perhaps that’s the worst part. He was so aware he was heartless. But demons don’t have hearts, his was burned long ago, he does not miss it. He will waltz on the ashes knowing he is a walking fantasy. 

 

Kyra began to pour her guests a warm cup of tea, trying to avoid contact with Asmo. “Torsten, I insist you take a bath, I’ve water prepared and I’d like you to have it.” Ky suggested, placing the glasses in front of them. “You’re too kind, Kyra. I will repay you.” he humbly replied, sipping the hot liquid. Asmo ran his supple lips across the glass, smelling the honey-scented beverage. Kyra shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. “Asmodeus, may I ask you something?” Kyra quizzed, leaning forward on the table. “And what might that be, my sweet?”

 

“You and Torsten… how did you get here so quickly? And his eyes… why’ve they changed?” 

“See, my dear. You must know of Lady Jan, no? She casted some fancy spell, more of a ritual to turn him into a werewolf. He can choose to go the next step by drinking wolf’s blood, turning him into a full monster. He may even lose control.” he trailed off, feeling Torsten grow more annoyed. “And… Lady Jan let him go, claiming he escaped. She summoned me to guide the lost puppy along. And now we are here… with a lovely view, my dear.” 

 

“Shut it, demon. I am no lost puppy, don’t make me cut your tongue out.” he snapped. 

“Calm yourself, little wolf. Lady Ky asked a question, mind your manners in front of a lady.” 

“Damn you, incubus.” he growled, grinding his teeth. 

“Torsten, please, take a bath and rest, you need it,” Ky said gently, putting her hand on his arm. “As you wish, my lady.” the wolf muttered, his tiredness taking a toll. He hated to leave her alone with that demon bastard. 

 

“Lady Kyra, answer me something if you please.” Asmo took his teacup over to the wash-bin, the water rippling as the glass touched it. “Yes, Asmodeus?” she answered smoothly, her lips pressing together. He looked at her, his eyes soft and tender. “You look tired, my dear. Is something bothering you? You can tell me anything. Kyra.” Asmo replied, loving to hear his name roll off her tongue. 

 

“I am tired. Of worrying, trying to help, I’m tired of… having to fight for my own life. I’m tired of Torsten thinking he can take on the world.” Her voice was slowly shattering like glass. “Tired doesn’t even cut it… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-” She was cut off by his hand on her cheek. “You needn’t worry, my sweet. You can always find comfort with me, please, tell me more. I’m here to listen.” he looked at her face, taking a step closer. Kyra knew what she doing but she didn’t care. She disconnected from her body, leaving her soul astray. She found false comfort in his eyes, knowing he only cared for her body. She couldn’t do this with Torsten, not now, his mind was just tampered with by a fucking witch. “Asmo… I’m just so tired. I can’t do this forever. I’m always running from something, running for gold or for my life, I can’t escape it. My best friend was just captured and tortured. It feels like I have no one to turn to. Torsten has no time to worry about that, it’s so hard to keep up. I'm trying to run with a revolution but I’m falling behind.” Kyra’s voice broke, her emotions were spilling over the edge, and Asmo was there to watch her crack open.  She gripped his shoulders without thinking. The demon had weakened her exterior, making it easier to crawl in her bed later on. “Kyra, you take on too much, you need to rest. The sun is setting, my dear. “ He said smoothly, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Please, my darling, come with me and sit.” Her mind had been broken by the demon, her shell had shattered. Resting in his arms, their eyes met, a layer of lust between them. Her lips craved his, his taste, his breath in her mouth, his hands around her hips. “Asmodeus…” she whispered, feeling his hand run up her leg, stomach, and onto her lips. Their lips were so close to meeting before they heard a door open with a thud. Torsten… 

 

“Get your fucking paws off her.” He growled, gripping his fists. 

“I-!” Kyra snapped back into reality. She pulled away, feeling a sense of emptiness after she turned her back. “No need to ruin the mood, little wolf. It isn’t like i forced myself on her.” Asmo chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. Kyra felt a wave of guilt, trying to tell herself it wasn’t her fault. Demons are at fault, not the humans they take advantage of. “Why are you still here anyway, demon?” Torsten snapped, walking closer to the demon. “You humans are so fucking dense. I’m here to help you, do you think Lady Jan would send us out and have me leave a day later? Haha, no. You need my help getting out of Doncaster, little wolf. You’re a wanted man.” Asmo replied, taking a step back. “We need to get to Trondheim, funny enough. Jan had an idea for you to become a free man but…” Asmo paused, looking over at Kyra. “What?” 

 

“Lady Kyra is a wanted woman herself. If we take her back-” 

“No. I’m not trading her for my freedom.” 

“If you’d shut up and let me finish…” 

“Fine.” 

“Lady Kyra, you know Hannibal Blackwood, yes?” 

“No.” 

“Silly girl, don’t lie.” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“Your eyes tell me you DO know Hannibal, little kitten.” 

“Fine, I do. What do you want with him?” 

“I want nothing with the boy, The Empire wants him or you, if Torsten brings you, he will earn his freedom.” 

 

Kyra’s eyes went dark. 

 

“Who is this… Hannibal?” Torsten asked, his golden eyes shooting at Kyra. 

 

“Allow me to explain, the little hawk isn’t doing well. Hannibal is a peasant living in The Lion’s Den, Doncaster. He’s a revolutionary to make it simple. An angry little boy with  little substance, I think it would be best to give him in, ‘least Lady Kyra has something ahead of her.” 

 

Kyra turned towards the demon, her eyes filled with fire. 

“Shut your filthy mouth. Don’t talk about him in such a way, how dare you.” She snapped, strutting over to him. “ Asmo looked down at her, lifting a brow. “Hannibal will not be sold out like that. I won’t allow it. If it means saving Hannibal, I’ll go. I’m not letting you sell him. I will not betray him like that.” Kyra’s hands gripped her silver dagger on her thigh, wanting to slash his face. “Then we won’t if he means so much to her,” Torsten added. 

 

“Then who will it be? Humans care too much, save yourself and be done with it.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, we have some time, Lady Kyra will see her lover-boy and talk it over with him. Kyra’s temper slipped, she lashed out with her dagger, slicing Asmo’s cheek. “Shut up, Incubus!” she shouted, her cheeks flushing. He was surprised but didn’t lash back. The wound healed over in a matter of seconds, looking like nothing happened. “I’m sick of being around the both of you, I’m going out.” Kyra grabbed her hooded cape and satchel, slipping them both on. “Kyra, please-” 

 

“No, Torsten. How do you think I feel right now? You’ll fucking die if you don’t bring someone. It’s between me and Hannibal. Neither of you ask ME what I want to do. I’m leaving.” Kyra stormed out, kicking the door shut behind her. “Damn, damn, damn, damn,” she said aloud, clenching her gloved hands, the leather straining. She stopped in her tracks, looking at her boots in the grass. Tears rested in the corners of her eyes, spilling over. She sniffled, the tears flowing freely. “I can’t.” Kyra fell to her knees and sobbed, feeling totally helpless. Hannibal meant the world to her, she cared for him deeply, sacrificing herself was still an option. Torsten could hear her with his enhanced hearing. Her crying made him cringe, he didn’t know how to help her. “Poor thing, she cares too much. Humans do that, she’s transparent, poor little girl wanting to help her wolf companion but also wants to protect her half-breed love. True romance.” Asmo chuckled, perhaps talking to himself at this point. 

 

“Will you shut up already? I never knew an incubus to talk as much as you do. Unlike you, we humans have morals.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Must be terrible to keep up a social image. No wonder humans are always killing each other.” By the gods, Asmo didn’t shut up. Torsten didn’t reply, only watching Kyra from afar. 

 

Ky’s face was stained with tears, her body becoming numb. 

“Ita genium ad deos Reznik. Qui comedunt lutum.” she cursed under her breath, her chest rising and falling from her heavy crying. She got to her feet, wiping the stray grass from her knees. She put her hood up, pushing the stray hair out of her face. Lady Kyra began the walk to The Lion’s Den to find her were-leopard boy, hoping to find some comfort with him.

  
  


**_“Damn you to the gods, Reznik. Eat the dirt.”_ **

 

The Lion’s Den, a place to kiss your lady while right after you buy a cheap whore who’ll spit on you for twenty gold coins. Other than that, it was a lovely place. Always a festival going on or in the process of being installed. Their riches were limited but the people made due. Doncaster was a place of rich culture and not to mention, but home to some of the most infamous monster breeders. The Blackwood family carried weight in the country, Hannibal being their prized half-breed son, reckless revolutionary, and the boy with extra ears on the top of his head, word is bound to spread. He’d smuggled beasts to far away lands to make a few extra coins, to undermine military operations, and perhaps to slow the build of prisons. Trondheim had felt his wrath over the years, he’s a wanted man among them. He’d been back and forth, arming the slums with weapons and armor, hoping to one day become a rallying cry for the oppressed. Poor mages, elves, all non-humans would look to him as the lone man who stood against an Empire. 

 

Kyra walked into the tavern, slipping her hood down, revealing her flushed face. “Lady Kyra! Welcome back, my dear. What can I get for you?” Asked the bar-maiden. “A heavy drink, heavier than a fat drunk man who fell asleep on top of his local whore.” she replied, a slight chuckle escaping from her lips. “As you wish, my lady,” she replied, rushing to fetch her a heavy drink. 

 

“Spirytus vodka, my dear.” 

“Thanks, hun.” 

She admired the shot glass, preparing her body for the heavy drink. 

 

“Down ya go…” 

She gulped the small cup, shaking her head to handle the taste. 

“Shit… another one.” 

“Ky, what’s up with you?” 

Kyra chuckled, her emotions spinning around. 

“I wish I knew how to explain it, lass. I’ll make it short: I’m between a rock and a hard place. The shit I do to save my friends, all I can say.” Kyra replied, trying to keep herself under control. 

 

“I’d die for you, they say. It’s even harder to live for someone when all odds are against them.” Her voice began to crack as she gripped her other hand. “Let’s just say I have to die so someone else can live. Or, they die so I can live. And unfortunately, if no one dies, another person suffers. Rather a half-breed who’s trying to save the world or a young woman who’s got nothing ahead of her than the executioner’s block sooner or later?” 

 

Kyra didn’t realize she unleashed all her thoughts in one sitting. The bar maiden looked at her , putting her hand on her shoulder. “Kyra… I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes going soft. Kyra grumbled. 

 

“I shouldn’t’ve said anything.” She got up, lazily throwing a handful of gold coins on the table. She sulked, walking to leave the tavern until she heard a loud whistle. 

 

**_“Aye, where do you think you’re going, princess?”_ **

“ **_Hannibal-?”_ **

 

**_Shit._ **

 

Hannibal-Fuckin’-Blackwood. 

The man, the myth, the baddest boy of them all.

She turned around to see him standing a few feet away, hood over his face, leaning against the wall. “What’s cooking, Ky-Ky?” he asked, lifting a dark brow. “Something real bad, let me tell you.” The girl replied, shaking her head. The man purred to himself. “Tell me about it, will you?” he said, walking out of the shadows and into the light. He took a decent sum of coins out of his pocket, sliding them over the counter. “Room for a day.” 

 

He pulled her over to the room he’d just gotten, kicking the door shut. He slipped his hood off, revealing a pair of leopard ears on the top of his head. “So, what’s the issue? You think I didn’t hear you call me a half-breed? The extra ears serve me well.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes at her. “No offense but I’m not wrong. Do you have a tail too?” she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just maybe, don’t even try grabbing it either.” she didn’t know if he was fucking with her or not. They’d only known each other for a few months so she was still learning new things about him. 

 

“So, you gonna tell me what the fuck is happening or what?” 

 

“Turns out you and I are on the Empire’s shit-list. A friend of mine from the Wolfgang tribe was… captured and tortured. Lady Janneka was kind enough to let him go and tell people he escaped. If he wants his freedom, he’s gotta bring one of us.” 

 

“Alright, so another fucker I gotta save? Sure, I’ll go but I’m not letting those rich bastards put their hands on me. I’d rather unleash a dragon with no chain.”

 

“Hannibal, how are we going to do this?” 

 

“This would be easier if I got somebody to bomb the place but…”

 

“Hannibal!”

 

“Who’s your friend? Wolves don’t sit well with me. Meow.” 

 

“Torsten, son of Asmund, White Wolf of Kaldr.” 

 

“Oh, that one. Look, where do they hold these live murders?” 

 

“Townsquare, pretty sure that’s… Labivgrad.” 

 

“I can transform and you can’t, it makes sense for me to go. So it’ll be me, alright?” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Positive. We should do this now, or at least soon.” 

 

Kyra shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I hate to say it but I’m scared. I’m terrified. So damn scared, I never thought I’d…” she paused, her shell cracking.  Normally so sarcastic and fearless. Now she was falling apart on the inside and it was showing in her every move. 

 

“Why’re you so scared?” he laughed. 

 

“If this doesn’t work, you’ll die. Knowing my luck, Torsten will leave my side for another ten years. You’re all I have, Hannibal. I can’t lose you, please, please be careful.” 

 

The woman put her hand on his shoulder. Hannibal smiled faintly.

 

“No need to shed tears or worry, my dear. I wouldn’t leave you so soon. Trust me and I will do well, have a little faith, will you? Maybe the Most Holy will get his ass movin’, yeah? I’ve got this, princess. I’ve got this and I’ll get out of it without a scratch.” In truth, he was nervous himself. The boy wouldn’t admit it but fear was sitting on his shoulders. “Come now, Hannibal. Can’t leave the Incu-bitch waiting.” 

 

The two left the tavern, their hoods shielding their faces. 

Kyra couldn’t help but worry for him. She glanced over at him for a moment, hoping to the gods this wouldn’t be a mistake. The moon began to rise above them, their path glowing. Hannibal’s lip began to twitch as the moonlight kissed his skin, his gums began to ache as he felt his teeth grow into large fangs. He tried to hide his discomfort but he stopped in his tracks, faint groans escaping his mouth. 

 

“Hannibal?” Kyra asked, turning to him. Now painful groans could be heard. “Shit... “ he moaned, falling to his knees. Kyra crouched beside him and tried to remove his hood. He gripped it to his head and his fingers were glued to the fabric. “No, don’t look at me.” Hannibal snapped, a grunt escaping his lips as the pain grew even more intense. It became so unbearable his hands began to shake. His teeth were now large like a leopard’s, the pain growing. Kyra saw his hands grip his thighs, using his vulnerable moment to rip his hood off. 

 

His face was exposed, along with his ever growing teeth, a pair of cat ears had grown larger and whiskers were poking from his flesh. 

 

“Hannibal, I-” 

“Damn, damn, damn.., this fucking pain.” she watched him turn into a cat like shape, he shook off his clothes so they didn’t rip. Seconds later, he was a full fledged leopard. The animal shook its body, stretching the formally compressed muscles. “Hannibal… I… Um. Can you hear me?” the woman was confused, trying to figure out what she just saw. The animal nodded, walking over to her. “Alright… Shall we get going?” the words were slow to escape her but she managed. She picked up his clothes and put them in her bag. She began to walk, only to have Hannibal bite her hand softly like he was tugging her back. “Hm?” she asked, lifting a brow. The animal stood beside her, arching his back, hoping she’d understand. “I…” he huffed, leaning into her leg. “You want me to… get on you?” she asked slowly, still very confused. He purred in response, sounding pleased with her answer. Wereleopards were much larger than normal ones, so she had heard. His shoulders were to her stomach, so perhaps it’d be like a horse ride. Kyra gripped his fur, swinging her leg over the beast. She shifted, gripping the flesh and fur, trying to relax herself. “Off we go,” Kyra stated, giving him a pat. 

 

He took massive strides, a walk felt like a trot. She grew fond of the beast Hannibal. She only wondered what her boys would think. She’d have to keep Torsten from skinning him alive. Hannibal could smell her perfume coming from her home only half a mile away, it being the only thing to guide him. Having a human on his back was oddly pleasant, he wouldn’t mind to carry her more often. He was surprised she didn’t faint, let alone scream when she saw him. 

 

“Stop here, Hannibal,” she commanded, seeing Asmo and Torsten in the window. He obeyed and stopped in her front yard, lying on the ground to make her dismount easier. The men in the house watched her. Torsten thought he was drunk, Asmo only chuckled to himself. “Looks like the little bitch made a new companion,” Asmo said, listening to her come in the front door. “Don’t speak of her-”

 

“Gentleman,” Kyra stated flatly, her leopard companion standing beside her. 

Torsten glared at the animal, just seeing a new rug. 

“This is Hannibal... “ Kyra muttered scratching the beast’s ears. He purred under her her nails. The incubus perked his brow. “Well, hello there, little kitten. May I pet you?” he asked, extending his hand to his face. He smelled Kyra on his hands, he showed his fangs and his eyes became a wildfire. “Angry kitten, I see. Very well. Kyra, it is good to see you.” 

 

“Shut up, demon. Are we ready? Hannibal is here but I can’t turn in a cat. Turn around, I have his clothes in my back and I’d rather an incubus of all people keep his eyes to himself, yes?” Kyra replied. “Of course.” Torsten and Asmo turned around, of course, Asmodeus didn’t need his eyes to look. “So… how do you turn back?” Kyra asked, scratching her head. “Are you done yet, Hannibal? I’m getting hungry and I’d like to see what this little town has to offer. My standards are high, so I’m sure Doncaster won’t be too pleasing… but my stomach doesn’t care right now.” 

 

He made the grave mistake of talking poorly of Kyra’s home. She was proud to be from Doncaster, she would wave its flag until her last breath. 

 

She walked over to Asmo, seeing him smile at her. “Knock that smile off your face, you self-serving cunt. Get out of my house if you aren’t going to use your manners. I have no time for you or your oh-so-humble view of my country. I may be human, but that does not make me yours to play with or to step on. You do  _ not  _ intimidate me, you will  _ not  _ speak to me, and you will  **_never_ ** step foot in this house again. You are an incubus, you have one purpose, and you are hellbound to a human woman. I am sick of hearing your devil’s voice. I am not blind to your ways. Do not try me, devil.” Kyra looked him in the eyes as she spoke, her voice did not shake, she was strong and her tolerance was gone. She was tired of being stepped on. He chuckled at her. “Well goodness-” 

 

She meant her words… ‘do not speak to me.’ 

Her fist kissed the side of his jaw. “Do not speak to me, devil.” she replied, watching him grab his jaw. She was almost lucky- Janneka was keeping her safe in a way. 

 

The red haired woman turned around to see human Hannibal standing behind her, pulling out the last of his clothes from her bag. She didn’t expect to see a shirtless half human, half leopard standing in her living room. “Hey,” he said calmly, slipping his light brown shirt over his upper half. So he’s gonna act like nothing happened? “Hi… sorry about that.” 

 

“Yeah, no problem. Ready to roll? Trondheim isn’t one to keep waiting, ya know?” Kyra perked her brow in response, he was right, no denying that. “Shall we get going? I can gladly escort you lot there… the magic of portals.” 

 

“Fine, just give me and Ky a moment, okay?” Hannibal asked. 

“Gladly.” 

 

Hannibal grabbed Kyra’s wrist and pulled her outside so quickly she almost tripped. “I need you to do me a favor, it’s so very important.” 

“Anything.” 

 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an amulet embellished in crystals. It was shaped like a cat’s eyes with a green crystal in the middle. He looked at it before handing it to her, the power it held was immense. “I want you to have this and never to take it off, understand?” he placed it in her hand. “What is this?” she asked, looking down at his scarred hands. “You’re the only one I trust - the only one I can trust. This amulet… binds me to you, wherever you are, I will always be with you. Call upon me and I will find you, no matter the odds. Some nights I can’t control my powers, and I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you or anyone else, command me as you will and I will heed to you as long as you carry this amulet around your neck. Tell me to go and I will. Tell me to stay and I will. Tell me to attack and I will.” Hannibal looked her in the eyes, she saw a blaze of fire, she saw his heart bleeding for her. “So promise me, you’ll never take this off?” 

 

“I promise, Hannibal. I promise.”  


	5. Broken Bonds

“ _ And blessed be your name, guide me to the right path. Bless our nation and King and Queen, may all peace be in their names. We live and die to return to You. Bless my sword and know I fight only in you name, I strive only to smite evil in my path. I will do no sin and i shall not stray from our path you have given us.” _ Isold recited her prayer, her soft voice filling her bedchambers. She sighed, running her fingers through her long tresses to detangle the few unruly locks. The sun was shining in her window, lighting her pale skin like that of an angel, she looked utterly enchanting relaxing on her bed. Still in her long nightdress, her feet rested on the stone floor, sending a chill up her back. “I suppose I should see the doctor today… these bandages could use a change.” she muttered to herself, though changing into her uniform would be just a bore. Just to get it over with, she carefully removed her uniform from her dresser, slipping into the soft cloth to protect her skin from the metal edges. She fastened the leather around her leg that held the silver plates on her legs. Her chest piece slipped over her and hung below her waist, the edges looking like dragon scales. Her shoulders were covered with a silver lining. Her eye still covered with semi bloody gaws, she placed her hand over her wound, missing what she had lost in battle. 

 

Isold was dressed for battle, though she had no intention of slaying dragons - only a trip to the doctor. She made her way to the doctor, the clicking of her thigh boots echoing as she walked down the street. With a sword to her side and a shield on her back, Isold stopped in her tracks when she saw a small child selling flowers. “Hello, my lady! May I interest yee in a flower?” asked the girl, looking at her armor up and down. “Of course, my child.” Isold pulled her coin purse from her pocket, handing the girl ten gold coins. “My lady, it’s only one!” 

 

“I know, my dear. It’s a gift, it is my duty to respect the children of the land. May you put the flower in my hair?” she asked, crouching down to her height. The girl placed two flowers in her hair, looking at her eye. “Are you alright, miss?” 

 

“I am, my child. You needn’t worry. I protect you from monsters, I can handle it. And so can you, my lady. I must get going now. Be safe, my child.” Isold kissed the girl’s hand and smiled, walking away.

 

Making her way to the doctor, she slowly opened the door to see a woman sitting at a desk, reading over documents. “Isold! I’m happy to see you, how are you? How’s the eye holding up?” Isold smiled, leaning her shield against the wall, along with her sheathed sword. “It’s fine, The bandages should be changed, I’d say, Take a look.” Isold walked into the operating room and took a seat, placing her hands in her lap. The doctor began to unwrap the bandages, seeing the empty socket. “It’s healing nicely, my dear. I was worried about infection but alas, it looks healthy. An eye patch may serve you will soon, would you like that? As I can not replace the eye altogether, perhaps Lady Janneka may help or know someone, may He bless her for having a heart so pure.” The doctor replied, grabbing a fresh set of gaws. “I can’t. I won’t use magic to change my fate, if I am meant to lose my eye, I will live with it.” Isold replied, her hand clutching the pillows beside her. “I adore my lady Janneka, I love her more than words and I am beyond proud to serve her when I need to, she is my mistress and I will serve her like I serve The Circle, and The Most Merciful. She lifts my head when it hangs low, but I can not use her magic to my benefit.” Isold continued, feeling the warm bandages wrap around her eye and part of her head. “Isold, you mustn’t be this way, magic can serve man.” 

 

“Then why am I told to destroy such things that kill and serve? Magic is evil, it spoils everything it touches. But… my lady is so different from the hoodlums to fornicate with the dead. Janneka, bless her name, I am not worthy but… she is controlled and uses her magic for good.” Isold sighed, closing her eye. “I have a duty and that is to smite evil without question. I would be going against everything if I used her like that. She has such a way with words, I will ask her what she thinks, but I will never heal myself with impurity.” 

 

“Isold, my Phoenix, do you think Lady Janneka is impure?” 

“By God, no! I would never speak of her in such a way. She is blessed by God, yet gifted with this… gift of magic.” Isold shook her head when her wraps were finished. She was so conflicted, her devotion to all things holy and one… unholy. Her feeling for Janneka were speculated, the way she spoke of her made her question herself. She spoke of this woman like she was her queen, her goddess. She raised her hand to feel the cloth over her eye. “Thank you, doctor. I am eternally grateful.” Isold bowed before her. “Raise your head, my dear, I’m only doing my job and I’m most pleased to see Trondheim’s own phoenix.” she cupped Isold’s cheek in her hands, looking at her in the eyes. “Now, go fly, little bird.” Isold smiled, her smile was soft and genuine for once. She was… happy. 

 

Isold grabbed her sword and shield, tossing it over her back. Her sword rested in its case on her hip. She was always fighting something within her, her body showed a thousand wars. Her hands were forever stained with blood even if she could not see it. Her eyes had seen countless deadmen. Her lips had approved the executions of innocent people, within her was growing fire that burned everything within her. She had called the war cry, the call of the Merciful one, a symphony lied under her heart. Every word she spoke was coated with truth and honor, every word burned her yet she continued to rally a cry. _ She was burning in her own ash, trying to keep the small flame alive.  _

 

“My lady,” Isold said in the doorway of Jan’s study chamber. The blonde haired woman got down on her knees and placed her metal covered hand over her chest. “Tis’ an honor as always. Are you faring well?” Isold asked, bowing her head when the raven witch walked over to her. “I’m well, Lady Isold.  I see your eye is bandaged again. Let me see.” Isold raised her head to show Jan her eye. She felt her delicate fingers run over her cheek. “Such a nasty wound you’ve been given. You are still a shining sun with your golden tresses.” The witch remarked. 

 

“Nay, I am not worthy of your kind words my lady. But I am humbled you bless me with them.” Isold replied. “Stand up, my dear. You aren’t just a common servant, you must not bend your knee to just anyone.” Jan chuckled, extending her hand to her. Isold grasped her hand and pulled herself up. Her gauntlets left faint scratches on the other woman’s palm. Isold saw them before Jan did. “My lady! Do forgive me, I did not mean to tarnish your skin.” Isold humbly apologized and kissed the palm of her hand. The witch smiled at her kind gestures. “You’re too kind, my dear. But do you not think I see right through your little charade?” 

 

“Come again, my lady?” 

“I can see it in your eyes, why is it that you’re so humble around me but you are a queen among others?” 

Isold grinned, there would be no use in hiding anything from her lady. 

 

“I know my place, my lady. But I know my place above others as well. My knee shall never bend for a sinner or an unholy saint. I know where I stand in power, I know where I stand among those above me. My knees will drop for you, I will rise and fall for you. I am a fire that always burns, but my flames will burn a nation for you..” Isold paused, a smirk forming on her lips. Her eyes went dark as her silence grew. “...But I know what I am. I know I am not an ordinary human. I know I hold a fire within me. For I am the Phoenix - and that will never change.” Isold grabbed her holy pendant, holding it like it would be the last thing she’d do. “I see the fire in your eyes, my angel. Which is why I must ask you something.” 

 

“Yes, of course. Your wish is my command.” 

“I need you to come with me into town - dress shopping for starters. Then something a little more… serious. I’ve been sent to investigate necromancy activity in the city, the slums, I should say. I’d like you to come with me if you are able. I know your injury must be taking a toll. I understand if you do not wish to assist me.” Janneka said, rolling her fingers. 

 

“Aye, my lady. Anything you wish of me and it shall be done. But why dress shopping?” 

“There’s a ball coming up in just a few weeks and I will be going. WIll you be going? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.” 

“Probably not, my lady. Duty calls.” 

“Isold, darling. Come with me, will you?” 

Isold’s face became flushed. “Janneka- My lady, if you find me worthy, I would be more than happy to attend with you. I’m sure you will look dashing in whatever dress you find.” Isold placed her right hand on her chest and lowered her head. “It would be an absolute honor to dance with the Raven Witch of Trondheim.” 

 

Jan smiled. “If you’ll allow me to change clothes, I will meet you shortly.” 

 

_ “Ego intellegis” I understand.  _ Isold left the room and sighed, their conversation replaying in her head. 

 

As the witch slipped out of her clothing, her bustier’s strings had loosened in the back. “Damn.” she muttered under her breath, reaching back to fix them. Before her fingers grabbed them, she heard a chuckle behind her. “Need some help?” the voice asked, running their fingers along her shoulder. “Don’t touch me, Incubus. Did I give you permission to visit me while I’m dressing? I think not. So make it quick before I send you back to hell.” 

 

“I can’t miss you? What a pity. But may I help you?” 

“I suppose.” 

 

With that, the demon pulled the strings tightly, hearing her inhale deeply. “Too tight?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Just fine. Now tell me what you need or want. Make it quick.” 

 

“Hannibal Blackwood is being executed today.” 

“THE Hannibal Blackwood?”

“There’s only one, my dear.” 

“This matters to me how?” 

“It doesn’t, really. Just telling you. And maybe I missed you.” 

 

“Sure, dear. Just tell Torsten to be careful if their plan backfires. I know Hannibal, he won’t be dying tonight.” She chuckled, slipping into her trousers. She pulled the strings in the front, double knotting for safe measure. “Hand me my top, if you will,” she said, running her fingers in her hair. He tossed her the white shirt, looking at her belongings. “Lovely. If you could see that he survives. Use a doppler or something. Take one of my books, will you? And just to be safe, bring me Hannibal. 

Tell them their plans are changed by  _ me.  _ Summon a doppler and take it from there. Get a lock of hair, blood, whatever you want and burn it as you cast the spell. Then your Hannibal-Doppler will be there. Command it as you will. Now, move fast, my dear. And all will be well.” 

 

“I’ll be seeing you, darling.” Asmodeus disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

 

The witch finished dressing, lacing her heeled boots up to her knee. She looked bewitchingly beautiful with her stark white button-down shirt tucked into her black trousers.  She strutted out of her chambers, seeing Isold mutter a prayer under her breath. “Are you ready to go, Isold?” She asked, her red lips curling into a smile. “Of course, my lady.”  Isold looped her arm around Jan’s, “It’s so different seeing you in such clothing, you look lovely, madame.” Isold looked at her, watching her curls blow in the soft wind. “Dresses can be so boring, you know. Though I’ve always loved your uniform, I rarely see you in anything different,” she commented, seeing her companion’s armor glimmer under the sun. “That’s because I almost always wear it, I’m not fond of other clothes. Unlike you, I have a sword and need to protect myself. Someone could stab you in the back because you have no protection.” 

 

“Don’t be a fool, Isold. Magic serves me better than all your swords combined,” she replied, people watching as she walked. “You aren’t wrong. If you care about honor and nobility such as myself, a sword would suit you better.”

 

. “I’m not one to hold myself to honor, dirty work is what I do, sweetness. I admire that about you, I must say. You’re bound to your path and you never stray. Such as the way of the Phoenix, yes?” 

 

“Indeed, my lady. I pray day and night hoping I please The Merciful and this holy kingdom of ours. Lindholm was no place for me… I am thankful His Majesty accepted me. It has been years since I’ve found this place. I’m thankful to have me met you as well, Lady Janneka, you have been most kind to me.  I am forever in your debt.” 

 

“How you flatter me. Come, the shop is here, pick a dress out with me, you’ll have a lovely time I’m sure of it.” 

  
  


Meanwhile, Asmo traveled to his lot of friends waiting half a mile away from Trondheim. Their camp was humble, Torsten remained on guard, allowing the others to rest. Kyra rested on her side, curled next to the fire, Hannibal’s back against hers. Her necklace was tucked into her shirt, protecting the precious item from unwanted hands. 

 

“Well, good afternoon.” The incubus stated, his usual cloud of black smoke trailing behind him. Torsten shot him a glare but noticed the book in his hand. “Hannibal, wake up,” Asmodeus commanded. The boy did as he was asked as he was never truly asleep. “What.” Kyra soon her the talk and looked up to see the demon standing only feet away from her. Hannibal extended his hand to help her up.

 

“I’ve come with news from my lady Janneka; she wants me to ensure you won’t die on this day, so she asked we summon a doppler to die in your place. Understand? Yes? Good.” As he opened the book, Torsten stepped in. “Wait, what the hell is her goal?” Torsten asked. 

 

“To keep him alive, you daft- Little do you know, Wolf, Hannibal helps her by smuggling to the dwellers in the slums. He smuggles monsters to them, explosives, things of that nature. She investigates with the Phoenix, thus driving them both up the ranks to more power. Besides, Lady Jan couldn’t truly give half a damn what happens to the people of Trondheim whenever she wants more power. It’s a game for her, Hannibal has crossed her path once or twice and she can’t let him die just yet.” He paused for a moment, looking at the same man he was talking about. 

 

“And your little revolution won’t go well as planned unless there’s a little chaos, no? Trying to rally up the necos in the slums, child? Is that why you smuggle them their spell books and exotic monsters? Or is it because you like watching the world crash and burn?” As the demon walked closer to Hannibal, his eyes began to glow a deep red, his claws becoming more apparent. He flexed his fingers around Hannibal’s cheek, looking him in the eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, kid. Is it tempting to steal that power for yourself, are you the selfless martyr you claim to be, hm? It’s alright if it is, you know. Humans are such temptable beings, it makes them so fun to toy with. Hannibal’s vision became distorted, the world around them was frozen but his friends could see the demon’s spell right before their eyes. 

 

“Darling Hannibal, is there a devil in you? Is it fighting to get out and unleash a fury onto the world that’s hurt you so deeply? Why not let it go and ravish the world for a change? Set it on fire and watch it burn to ash. You deserve to have that power for a change, why is it alright for the world to hurt you but you can’t hurt it?” The incubus had changed into its true self. His skin black as night,  his eyes glowing red, his nails turned to talons.  He whispered these words in his ear, his lips gliding over his lobe. “Will you take my hand and unleash your demons?” Hannibal was stuck to listen to the demon’s words, his tempting words were impossible to resist, such as the way of incubi. 

 

Kyra watched in horror, trying to move her muscles. Her mouth would not move but her mind was screaming for aid. “ _ Hannibal! Please don’t leave like this, don’t listen to that demon, I’m begging you, please, please!”  _ Her mind was in shambles, the words wanting to escape her mouth. She desperately tried to be of assistance, tears were floating around her as she tried to scream. Hannibal had been seduced by the demon’s words, giving him a nod to his offers. “Y-yes…” The half-breed replied, barely able to use logic in the moment. The demon smiled at his words, sealing the deal with a kiss on Hannibal’s lips. When their lips touched, Hannibal fell to the ground, his mind broken from the demon. In Asmo’s hand were a few strands of his hair. The world had melted, the others being able to move again. Kyra’s tears fell from her eyes as he tried to catch her breath. She ran over to Hannibal, shaking his body to wake up. “Wake up, damn you! You can’t leave me, you can’t! Wake up you bastard! Hannibal, wake up!” The woman screamed, leaving hard slaps across his face. “Explain yourself, demon,” Torsten growled, pulling his sword from his side. “Silly humans. He’s fine. I did this to protect him, you see. His soul should be resting happily in Jan’s chamber, all I need to do is take his body there. Would it make sense to have two Hannibal’s running around? No. Tell your red-haired woman to pull herself together - humans are adorable when they see something to vulnerable be threatened.” The wolf walked over to the younger woman, he watched as her nails ripped his shirt, her grip was stronger than he expected. 

 

“Kyra, we must go. I don’t trust this swine but please, try and reason,” he said flatly, putting his hand on her back. “Torsten… I can’t take this, I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she whispered, resting her head on the soulless man’s chest. Torsten paused, his eyes growing darker. “Why didn’t you say anything, you swine?” he snapped at the demon. “Why should I?  I don’t take special time for you, puppy dog. It isn’t like little bird here… loves him? Haha! Is that it?” he teased, chuckling at the girl. 

 

Kyra felt Torsten’s strong arm loop under her, she showed harsh resistance. Her legs flailed and her hands grabbed at his cape, throwing it over his head when her feet were off the ground. “Don’t touch me, Wolf! How dare you think you can carry me like I’m some doll!” She pushed herself off of him and gracefully landed on her feet. “So the little bird can fight? Maybe we should have a duel.” 

 

“Kyra, don’t.” 

“I may be human but a man flapping his gums annoys me no matter what he is. I say we duel. No magic, no potions, and no demon lies. Is that a deal, Asmodeus?” 

 

“Yes, my lady.” 

 

Kyra grabbed her sword by the campfire, pulling her sword from the case, the silver sparkling under the sun. Torsten noticed the elven writing on her blade. “Kyra… where on earth did you get that sword? “

 

“At the getting place, Wolf. Now, draw your weapon, demon.” 

 

The demon grinned at her words, “As you wish, my dear. “ 

 

The demon seemed to have pulled an ebony sword from thin air, gems embellished on the handle. Her eyes narrowed at her target. “Let’s see how sharp those skills are, little bird.” he grinned, readying his sword. The hawk cringed in anger at his words. She charged him, their swords clashing. Their eyes met in the heat of the moment. _ “I am not little bird…”  _ she gritted through her teeth, pushing the demon back. With the speed of light, their swords clashed, sparks flying as the silver and ebony glided against each other. “ _ I am a hawk…”  _ she continued, swinging her sword at his, aiming to disarm him. He wasn’t shaken by her strength, he swiftly sliced her thigh, her trousers giving her some protection. She recoiling, pushing herself back. Her leg shook but her hands stood strong on her sword. Moments before, Torsten asked what her sword read. She took her title very seriously and held it close to her heart.  **_“...A hawke of Doncaster, fearsome and mighty.”_ **

 

Her boots dug into the ground, her leg aching in pain but she pushed through the pain to shut the demon up. He spent too much time running his mouth, and this little bird was tired of it. Seeing him trick Hannibal was enough for her to swing a sword at him. Simultaneously, the two glided their swords under each other. She looked at the words on her sword and remembered who she was.  **_What she was._ ** Fearsome and mighty… 

 

The tip of her sword hit his chest, watching the luxury fabric rip. While he was vulnerable, she took the chance to knock the sword from his palm and watched it fall to the ground. “I think I win, don’t you?” she asked, picking up his sword and watching it glimmer. “And think of that slice as my kiss for you.” she chuckled, watching him mend his shirt. “Keep my sword, my dear. Was this your revenge?” 

 

“If you see it that way. You played fair, Asmodeus. For that I thank you.” she bowed. “Let us continue our trip to this tyrant hell hole. How will we summon our Doppler? What will happen to Hannibal’s body?” 

 

“Leave him to me, Lady Jan will tend to him. Leave the summoning to me.” He replied, pulling the book from his satchel by the fire. 

 

**_“_ ** **_Doppler veneris mecum, eris mihi operam vestram?”_ ** As he recited the words, he burned the few strands of hair, watching it sizzle into nothing.  He watched sparks fly out of his hand. “You’ve summoned me?” The doppler asked. “Come with me, we’ve places to be and many women to entertain.” Kyra watched as the Hannibal-Doppler stepped into the portal the demon forged. Asmo picked up the real Hannibal and funny enough, carried him bridal style.  

Kyra followed the demon closing her eyes as she readied herself. Torsten grabbed her hand and smiled. “No need to be afraid, Hawk.” “Yes, no need to be scared. You can always hold onto me if you get scared.” Asmodeus added,” 

 

“Oh, fuck off.” Wolf and Hawk said together. They looked at each other and smirked. “Ready, fearsome girl?” Torsten asked. 

 

“Always by your side, Lupus.” 

  
  


  
“Where… am I? Kyra? Torsten?” Hannibal muttered, slowly lifting his head. He felt a hand on his head, fingers gently rubbing his scalp. “What the-?!” Hannibal pulled a knife from his thigh and pointed it at the figure. “You  better start explaining who the hell you are and where the fuck I am!” Hannibal snapped. He felt his fingertips freeze around the knife, his eyes went wide at the ice forming around him. The figure smiled, gently rubbing his fingers together. The ice melted and Hannibal slashed out, only to have his hand slow in mid-air. “You shouldn’t lash out at people who’ve done nothing wrong, Hannibal.” 

 

“How the hell do you know me? Who are you?!” the boy shouted. 

“Who am I? Why, I’m Sharian Lorakran, the oldest known telemancer in the world… and one of the last.” his voice was soft like flower petals, he spoke in such a gentle tone, his words flowing from his tongue like warm honey.  “I seek nothing from you, as you aren’t whom I’m looking for. But I will be seeing more of you, Hannibal.” 

 

The ghostly figure, a maniacal laugh escaping his lips. He seemed to disappear into the air, leaving the room with a nasty chill. 

 

Hannibal was left in shock, his cat ears twitching. 


	6. A Ghostly Figure

  
Isold looked at the dresses, her eyes glued to the crimson colored dress embellished with sparkling gems. “That would look lovely on you, Isold.” Jan spoke from behind, holding jet black dress over her arm. Isold often changed her mind and spent a few extra moments thinking on her choice. “You think? It would match if we’re dancing together,” she replied.

“I insist you get it.”  
“As my lady commands.”

Once they purchased their attire, they began to walk to Jan’s chambers, arms linked together. Isold opened the door for the witch, her head bowed as she walked. Isold followed behind. “Who let a cat in?” the blonde asked, sniffing the air. Hannibal heard a door open downstairs, jumping behind a desk to listen. “It’s nothing, my dear. I’m not the only person who lives here, you know.” the two made their way to Jan’s living chambers. Hannibal grabbed his knife and held it close to his chest, preparing to lash out at any given moment. The women laid their dresses down as Hannibal watched from behind the desk. He crept from the desk, making his way behind the couch. His footsteps were dead as a winter night. “My lady, may I offer you something to drink?”

“No thank you, Isold. Just take a seat.” Jan smiled and walked to her station, looking over recent letters. She felt a chill run up her spine, making her shiver. Hannibal could easily slice her throat if he was quick enough, but he remained behind the couch Janneka walked by him, her eyes only glued to Isold. “My lady.” Isold stated flatly, her hand stopping her in her tracks. “I can not shake this feeling, someone is here.” Hannibal gritted his teeth and slid around the couch, hiding behind a corner. He checked his pockets for throwing knives, and to his luck, he found them. They’d look so pretty stuck inside Jan’s skull.

Like it was nothing, a knife slipped from his fingertips and came flying through the air at Jan. Isold saw it, and pulled Jan close to her, using her shield to block the knife. She moved so quickly, even Jan was impressed. Isold charged at the knife thrower, leaving him nowhere to run… unless he was fast enough. He darted under her legs and climbed on top of the bookshelf like a cat, dagger in hand. “Hannibal Blackwood?!” Isold exclaimed, her brow furrowing. “Isold, drop your weapon. This wasn’t meant for your eyes.” Jan walked to the blonde woman, lowering her sword. “You’re so ready to kill for me, you cold-blooded beast.” The witch commented. “Who the fuck is this?” Hannibal hissed, his eyes flickering. “Let me guess, the bitch of Trondheim and her servant? Isn’t that cute.” the boy scoffed. “Watch your tongue, you vile halfbreed! Come here and I’ll skin you like the animal you are.” Isold growled, her eyes growing dark. “You will do no such things, my dear. Hold your tongue. His words mean nothing to me, I had him brought here. I can explain everything. Or… I can have someone else explain it.” she cooed, running her fingers along the sword. Her fingers bled, she licked them, her eyes glued to Isold. “My lady, your hand-”

She chuckled. “What about it? You only need to listen and hear me out. I shan’t allow Hannibal to die, a doppler will die for him. For this handsome man keeps me afloat. He brings us to power, sweet thing. Why do you think you and I are so high ranking? Because we take care of the underworld. He’s probably why we have to go to the slums and speak with the undertaker. Why? Because he supplies those scum with magic and live monsters.”

Isold’s face went blank. “Why would he do such a thing…”  
“Don’t you see?! He wants this empire to fall and burn to ash. When it falls, the more we rise! Don’t you want that? I’m doing this for you, I know how badly your rank means. Soon, you will be the fire that makes this country move forward.” The witch spoke like a devil, she contorted the very vision Isold saw. The witch stepped closer to her, kissing her cheek. “You trust me, don’t you? I’d never lie to you, I’d never hurt or betray you. You know this, my dear. You know I adore you, you know everything I do, I do it for us. “ Janneka whispered the sweet lies to the other woman, running her fingers along her cheek. Isold’s chest dropped to her stomach. “You speak like a devil, my lady.”

“I only speak the truth, my darling. Do you trust me? Will you follow me into the dark and let me guide you onto my path?” Her words spilled from her lips, pulling the wool over Isold’s eyes. She saw a crime, she saw a crime against the government but she adored the witch far too much. She was foolish, ever so foolish. “

“Yes, mistress.” she pressed her palm to her chest, showing her utmost devotion to the dark woman. “I like to hear that, thank you. You always know just what to say. You are my angel.” Isold may as well sold her soul to a devil, her own eyes had been twisted for evil.

“You speak like a devil…” Hannibal muttered. His ears twitched and rested back on his head. “Do I now?” Jan chuckled. Isold’s head was still bowed before her devilish queen. “Am I a devil for saving your life?” she asked, walking over to the boy, still sitting on top of the bookshelf. “Why don’t you come down, Hannibal? I’m not animal control, maybe a bowl of warm milk would coax you down?”

He literally hissed, his face contorting to look like that of a cat. “Would a devil go through so much trouble to save you? Call me what you wish, but I think I am owed at least a thank you, don’t you think? Come down, please.” she smiled, her emerald eyes going soft. Hannibal didn’t move, his eyes.

“You are a stubborn one - just like the wolf.” she shook her head and walked away, dropping a piece of hard candy from her sleeve. “Stay here and watch Hannibal, will you? I’ve to speak to the guard captain.”

“At once, my lady.”

She heard a scoff from behind her. “Don’t fall now, Hannibal.”

“I’ll fall right into your ever so loving arms.”  
“Certainly.”

Isold opened the door for the witch.

  
“Optimum est fortuna, mea domina.” Isold recited and bowed.  
Best of luck, my lady…

  
“Why must you stand so close to me, you fruitcake?”  
“It isn’t my fault I’m so handsome, Wolf.”  
“Can you both shut your traps for a second?”

The three of them bantered, shoving each other out of the portal. “Aw, Kyra, darling. You won’t be telling me to shut up when I'm whispering sweet nothings in your ear while-”

“Asmo!” Kyra scolded, slapping his arm.  
“Fine, fine.

Just outside the gates of Trondheim…

“Are you ready to do this?” Torsten asked Kyra, putting his hand on her shoulder.  
“Kyra should stay with me, I can get her in the city without alerting the watchman. You know what to do, Wolf.”  
“As you wish. Keep her safe and I swear I will tear you apart if she’s hurt.”  
“Of course. May I carry you, princess?” The demon asked the redheaded woman.  
“If you must.” she groaned, throwing her arms around his neck. He lifted her up like a bride leaped over the walls, a cloud of jet smoke covering him.

The wolf took a deep breath, his memories growing dark. Everything he ever loved was lost, his sister betrayed him, his comrades hadn’t been avenged… he was lost in this world with nothing. Only his sword and his strong belief in the gods. Kyra was his world, his best friend, and his greatest companion. But he knew their time was limited.

“Guards! It is I, Torsten, Son of Asmund, the White Wolf of Wolfgang. I bring you Hannibal Blackwood of Doncaster. Open your gates to me!” he called his sword arm itching for a taste of blood. The doppler smiled, knowing his fate. The guards muttered to themselves. “Is this true?” one called from his post, walking to the window of the tower. “I can’t believe it. Open the gates at once! Alert her Royal Majesty at once!” The men followed the orders to the very last breath. “Alert the queen! The White One has given us Blackwood!”

In her palace, Queen Alima donned her glasses and sat in her window chair, her ever so loyal butler, companion, and personal guard standing beside her, holding her tea kettle, waiting for an order. “Your Majesty,

Hannibal Blackwood has been found for Torsten of Wolfgang - we have opened the gates for him, I humbly ask you to view his trial.” She lifted her eyes from her book, an annoyed yet tired look on her face meeting his. She laughed. “Trial? You must be blind or deaf, my son. He’s a wanted man, he has no trial. Bring him to the block and I will be there shortly. You may escort yourself out.” He bowed and hurried away. “Come, I hate seeing such things but let us get this over with.” Alima gulped. Her companion placed the kettle on the dresser, holding his hand out to help the young woman up. “Your Majesty, if you do not wish to attend, I humbly ask that you refrain.” the companion stated, looking at her with tender eyes. “Death is a terrible thing, as much as I hate that wicked man, I have no desire in watching him die.” The Akkadian woman sighed, resting her chin in her palm. “May I tell you stories of The Golden Horde once your outing is finished? Seeing your shining face fall to a bitter and cold night sky pains me deeply.” The man balled his fist, holding it firmly on his chest. “I ask that you refrain from burdening yourself so harshly, my empress.” he closed his dark eyes, kneeling before her. “Forgive me if I speak out of line, but the sight of your eyes falling to sadness rips my heart from my very chest.” She looked down at him, tilting his head back with her gloved finger. “Bataar, my loyal guard and I dare say, my love, I am strong with you by my side. Now, dress me for his death, I want to wear black.”

Bataar was her loyal companion, her right hand, an extension of herself. He was a beast, yet he hated to kill. Sunshine resided in his palms where he held ink to paint the battle cry on his lips when the time came. His eyes were dark like the night, skin scarred from years of battle, He was stronger than on ox, he needed no sword to take a life. His hands were his greatest weapon- years of martial arts of course. He spent his days serving Alima, adoring her with all of his being. She was perfect in his eyes, he borderline loved her. He saw the sadness in her eyes when her husband was near, she cried even. He grew delicate with her, but he knew she was strong. And she was, her fingers held the power of a thousand armies, her lips could murder on command. She was living power. But her strength came with many burdens. And Bataar was there to lift them.

He donned her in a black gown that dragged behind her, diamonds and crystals lined her sleeves, they shimmered under the sunlight even with the slightest movement. “I hate this place.” she mused her heartstrings on the verge of breaking. “I hate it. I wish I could burn this place to the ash and dance with joy. I hate Reznik, I swear I would hang him the noose he hangs others by. He is a devil, worse than any devil I've met in my sleep.” her eyes went soft as he laced her boots. He cringed at her pain, his hands pulling the strings even tighter to hold back his harsh words. “It was for the good of Akkad.” his words showed no comfort. “This so-called empire is a mud hut compared to my precious Akkad. My home, my kingdom. Married to a man with snow colored skin for the good of my empire? The gods have a funny way of showing me the path.” he sighed, moving to the next boot. “I understand your pain, and I would never speak out of turn with you, but…”

“What?”  
“It’s just that your personal needs are thrown away when you reach the throne. I said goodbye to my home to serve you and this kingdom. You are the empress, you know what you must do”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What would a servant know of such things?! How dare you slash me with your tongue, you-”

Alima’s rage overtook her, she wasn’t mad at Bataar, but herself. She got to her feet and stormed away from him. “Damn this kingdom! DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!” Her rage was blind, she slammed her fists on the dresser before knocking her belongings from the top. Tears rested in her eyes, her face was red with blind and pure anger. She heaved, her breath ragged and unsteady. “WHY MUST I BE CURSED TO SUCH A RULE?! I DON’T WANT THIS ANYMORE!” Alima shouted at the top of her lungs, his fists shaking the wood. She was shaking, her body overcome with rage and sadness. She couldn’t control herself, she wanted to see it burn to the ground. Bataar was lost, he didn’t want to have his eyes clawed from his face but he hated thing. “My lady, I’m begging you, calm down.” He walked over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Why… Please tell me why. I can’t stand this, I want this to end. I’m so tired of killing, I’m tired of everything. I WANT IT TO END RIGHT NOW-!” she inhaled as deep as she could, struggling to fill her lungs. “Promise me one thing, Bataar,” she whispered in a broken voice. “Do not go against my word. If I ever ask you to kill me, you will do it. Do you understand?”

“My lady, I could never-”  
“Do not question me. Kissing the devil would be better than dying of age here. Now promise me.”  
He hesitated, he couldn’t take her life, but her words were his law.

He got down on his knee and placed his right hand on his chest.

“Your will is my command.”

“Kyra, tell me something.” Mused Asmo as he stood on top of a rooftop,  
“What?” she replied, still resting in his arms.  
“Do you think Torsten loves you?”  
“There’s no love between us.”  
“Do you love Hannibal? Does he love you?”  
“Why should I tell you that?”  
“I’m not demanding, am I? It’s your choice, darling.”

She sighed, he made her think. “I do, but I haven’t told him.”

“Why?”  
“Because the revolution has no time for love.”  
“There’s always time for love, Kyra.”  
“Says you, you only see lust and someone’s dark desires. You don’t love.”  
“You don’t think I love my lady Jan?”  
“Does she have a nice chest? Yes? Then you want to fuck her.”  
“How cruel.”  
“Aren’t I?” she chuckled.

Asmo’s hair fell over his eyes as he stood in the corners of the building, his tanned skin slightly glowing under the light. She couldn’t deny his dashing looks, he wasn’t looking down at her but he could feel her large irises.

“It appears I don’t know much about you. May I ask you questions?”  
“What is this pillow talk now? But fine, ask what you will.”

“Is Kyra your real name?”  
“Yes.”  
“Where were you born?”  
“The Lion’s Den.”  
“Why do you call yourself the Red Hawke?”  
“I didn’t give myself the name, it was given. I…” she paused, her eyes looking off into the city. “My crew gave me the name because of my speed like a bird, the fire of my hair, and the sharpness of my sight. I’ve honored the name ever since it was given. Hah, it feels like it was yesterday, really. I’ve lived by it and I will die by it.” She smiled, her mind went to her former comrades she’d once known in her old days.

“And you are fearsome and mighty, where did that come from?”

“Again, I earned that alongside my title as Red Hawke. But I’d gotten the extension on the day I almost lost my life trying to free my friends. I’d taken many stab wounds, an arrow in the leg and yet… I still managed to free them. I’d gotten the keys and I ordered they run and never look behind them. They hated to leave me but I begged them to. I was covered in my own blood and the blood of the men I’d killed. The guards came as I was crawling back, I hid behind corners, in the dead bodies they kept in the cells to scare the inmates. They walked right past me and I thought I was going to die. I just remember climbing out of the window and dragging myself back to safety.”

The demon perked his brow. “A strong woman you are, I’m impressed. But now I fear our question time must fall short. I see the Big Bad Wolf and the doppler, they’re with the guards.”

“Then let’s go- we can’t wait any longer.” she jumped up from his arms and tried to look into the city. “I think not, little birdie. I was to keep you safe and get you into the city, not get you into the city so you can watch a doppler get murdered.” he retorted, a smirk forming on his lips. “You’ve done your part.” with her rebellious words she scanned the area before jumping to the bottom. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he muttered, grabbing her boot, holding her upside down. “What the-?!” she snapped, seeing the ground below her. “Damn you, Asmodeus! LET ME GO!”

“Right on your pretty little head? I could never.” he held her by the ankle and watched her hair sway in the gentle wind. “You stupid girl, you don’t listen, do you? I will not allow you to run off into this mess.”

She grew frustrated with him, yet knew he was right. She felt his grip loosen and natural panic started taking over. “ _Asmodeus NIKAS, don’t let me go!”_ she ordered. “You’re in no position to order me to do anything, little one.” he started walking along the side of the room, still holding her in his hand. “If you don’t bring me back on his rooftop, I swear…”

“You swear?” he chuckled,  
She didn’t say anything to that because she was just speaking empty words. The fear started to set it when she felt the pressure build in her head. “If you fall, you’ll crack that pretty head of yours and we don’t want that do we?” he asked. He got a sick pleasure from seeing fear build in her eyes. She didn’t trust him at all, she knew better than to trust any devil. “You know, the guards are right under us. Don’t make a sound.” he cooed, treating her like a toy. She saw them underneath her, her heartbeat began to race. She searched for the rope she kept in her coat, she never needed it until now. “Looking for something?”

The words didn’t leave his lips, yet she heard his voice in her very head. He was driving her over the edge. “Poor thing, aren’t you? What are you stoic plans now?” she ignored him, yet he could hear her inner thoughts. “You hate me? You don’t mean that!” she tied a knot in the rope and began to throw it over to the next building. There was a perfect spot for the rope to hold on to, getting it over there would be the hard part. “Fuck you,” she said in her mind, knowing he’d hear her. “Right here and now?” that smug little demon toyed with her even more. Her rope idea was falling short but she didn’t give up. How dare that bastard fool around like that.

Her head was pounding, the blood was becoming too much. She tried to unbuckle her boot to slip out of it and then swing over. Asmo wouldn’t have that. “Do you want that bit of fun so badly you’ll risk alerting the guards?” she grew too annoyed with him to keep her mouth shut. **“DO YOU EVER SHUT THE-”**

He let her go. She felt her world spin around before her. It was a good 30 feet, the guards had left but that wasn’t the most important thing on her mind. “Do you think I’d let a pretty thing like _you_ die? What kind of man do you take me for?” she opened her eyes to see her legs over his arms and feel the warmth of his chest on her face. “A terrible one. Where are the guards?”

“Oh? Those little piggies are gone, you needn’t worry yourself.”

“The big bad wolf didn’t give me directions, so I suppose that means I can travel freely. And no, you aren’t leaving me.” he almost hissed. “You hold no merit over me, why do you act like you own my very being? Because you don’t.” she snapped, standing her ground. She was foolish indeed, and she knew it, but she was too stubborn to give in. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. When will you learn?” he almost growled. She watched his eyes turn a glowing violet, his nails grew into wicked claws, sharp enough to slice her skin in seconds. Pure darkness surrounded her, a cloud of black smoke formed around them. She could see his face clear as day, arrogance, pride, and vanity rested behind those wicked eyes. “When…” he started, running his claws over her skin. “Will…” he talked slowly, his teeth forming into fangs. “You…” he dug his nails into her freckled skin, watching pain fill her eyes. She whined, tears forming in her eyes. His talons felt like acid on her skin. “...You learn? You stupid mortal.” he growled. “Should I eat you for myself? Or would you like something more romantic, you whore? Should I drop you from a building, watching you SPLAT like the little roach you are.”

It seemed like her cries were silenced by the world, no one could hear her. “Does that hurt?” he asked, his skin now black as night, horns grew from the top of his head. He was a vile demon hidden behind a handsome face. “I think you’ve forgotten what I am, little bird. I see the fear resting in your eyes. Are you hiding something from everyone? Are you just a frightened little girl who wants to run away? You are, aren’t you?” She gripped his wrist with all her strength. She turned her head away from him, he grabbed her cheeks and forced her to see his eyes. “You can’t run away now, that’s all you do, my dear. Just tell me you’re so scared! I see it in you, and there’s no need to hide it. I am your greatest fear, I will haunt your dreams and all your nights.”

The demon leaned in to kiss her ear. “You look too pitiful, it’s better to just admit your fear! I would tell you not to be afraid, I don’t bite… but now? It’s so tempting, isn’t it? His hot breath warmed her skin, a mixture of fear and sadness clung to her. With a sudden jolt of pain, she felt his teeth sink into her flesh. Her knees became weak, her hands gripped his shoulders as she tried to support herself. Her mind was racing, she was vulnerable and terrified. Her blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and down her neck, his hand made its way in her hair and pulled hard to expose more of her delicious skin. He lifted his head to look down at her, he looked human now, but that didn’t make him less horrifying. He wore a wide smirk on his face, blood still dripping from her lips. He laughed softly, running his thumb over her bitten lips. She bit down so hard her lips began to bleed. He dragged his thumb over the fresh blood. He licked his thumb and savored the sweet taste. Incubi do not drink blood to survive, Asmodeus enjoyed the taste, and getting it was always fun for him…

“To be so mean, your blood tastes so sweet.” He smiled, watching her eyes slowly close. She pushed him away and tried to walk, yet her senses were completely gone. Seeing an Incubus’s true form would wear anyone out, he exhausted her to the core. She collapsed on the ground, skinning her knees and arms. “Poor thing.” he chuckled. He picked her up and looked down at her, seeing the claw marks on her skin still dripping blood. “Rest now, little bird.” her eyes were weak and bloodshot. Her lips were parted, blood began to run down her lips. She tried to bring her hand up to his face, he smiled and lowered his face so she could touch his skin. A faint grin fell over her face. She ran her fingers down his face, looking him deep in the eyes. Asmodeus lifted his brow and gently kissed her fingertips. Her nails swiftly scratched his face, three lines began to form. She turned her head to spit the blood that built up in her mouth. “Now take me to Torsten.” she smiled and watched his face turn dark. He cracked his neck before making a dash for the Wolf.  
Torsten admired the fine dress of everyone around him. He donned a bearskin shawl, something that wasn’t common among the Empire. He stood by the executioner's block, holding the fake Hannibal. “Why would you bring him here when you’re an enemy?” asked a civilian.

“As much as I hate this place, I can not allow a terrorist to run free,” he replied.

To his surprise, he saw the mass the guards surrounding the Empress, her loyal companion walking on her right side. “Torsten, my son.” she started, brushing the guards out of her way. She walked up to him, she was much shorter than him, so he took the liberty to bow. “No, no. To your feet, my wolf. It may not feel like it, but I assure you that what you have done will be written in our history books.” she placed her fingers under his chin and tilted his head up. His eyes shimmered under the sunlight, her jeweled crown reflecting the sun onto his pale skin. “You, Torsten have lost everything. And I pity you, truly. I will repay you in any way that I can. My word is law, and everyone here knows what I say is written in the stars.”

“My dearest wife…” the deep voice of her husband rang behind her.  
“You let him go like that?” he asked, his dark eyes shooting at the Wolf.  
“What crime has he committed? He was brought here. He has repaid any of his debts by bringing us, Blackwood. See where I stand, Reznik.” Torsten yellow eyes narrowed, he seethed with rage. “I suppose. But do not forget his homeland will be mine. Now, off with Blackwood’s head.” he hissed. The guards ripped Hannibal from the Wolf, his golden irises following as the doppler struggled. Alima ran her fingers over Torsten’s cheek, her eyes holding so much pain. She leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Thank you, my wolf. May you watch my kingdom crumble. Now, run with the wilds, my child.”

He was surprised by her words. Torsten bowed his head. Her lips lingered by his ear. She placed a kiss on the corner of his eye. “I will never forget what you have done. Be free.” she walked away from him, her companion standing tall beside her. She leaned into him to hide her eyes from the murder right in front of her.

“Hannibal Blackwood, scum of the Lion’s Den. Are you aware of your crimes?”  
“Why, indeed I am. Let’s get this show going, yeah?”  
“Don’t let him speak! Kill him now!” Reznik’s voice was like rolling thunder, he shook the mountains around him, he was truly a ruthless man. His mercy was shown to none, his wife was no different. She spent her time with Bataar and none else, he kept her safe from her husband’s brutal words. He was her shield.

In just a flash, the doppler’s head was ripped from his shoulders with the razor-sharp sword. Torsten watched, hearing the crowd roar. “May his soul rest in peace.” Bataar put his hand on his chest and bowed his head. “Head up, my son. Mourning the death of scum?”

“No, my lord- I didn’t mean to offend.” Torsten listened, he hated Reznik more with a passion that burned like wildfire. He couldn’t rip his heart from his chest now, he was free to go. Perhaps later.

“My wolf, I think you should see your sister before you leave, you must miss her greatly.”  
“I wish I could say yes, my lady. She and I ended on the wrong side of the battlefield, I’m afraid.”  
“I know nothing of your sword, my dear. But do not think I can not see your heart.” she placed her hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. He bowed his head, as he felt pity for the woman. “It is golden, my dear. Please, see her one last time.”

“As you wish, your highness.”  
Just to their surprise, Lady Jan was walking towards them.

She smiled at Torsten.

“Your Highness, it is an honor to find you. How may I be of aid to you?”  
“Have you seen Lady Isold? I’d like for the Wolf to say goodbye to her.”  
“At once, my Empress. Shall I walk with you?”  
“Travel as you wish, my dear.”  
“A touch of magic then. Good day.”

She seemed to disappear into thin air. So is the way of the raven…

“Be quiet, animal! I grow tired of hearing your vile voice, I swear I will skin you alive and wear you around my neck!”

“Strong words, you low-life whore! I’m so scared of the little watchdog, that’s what you are, isn’t it? Want a bone to suck on? Unless Reznik’s halfway down your throat!”

Jan walked in on the Isold and the real Hannibal about to have a bloody fight.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Jan shouted, slamming her fists on the table, Her eyes flashed blue, the light of the heavens resides behind her eyes. Magic controlled her like she controlled it, she became the very magic she controlled. She strutted over to Hannibal, his puppy eyes showing such resistance.

She twisted her wrist swiftly and watched his body fly against the wall. “You, little kitten…. Will show my lady respect, do you understand? I know the common rabble like yourself thinks respect is not killing each other. I should be making you clean the dust from my boots. Empress Alima will be here at any given moment, so I’ll make sure you stay nice and quiet.”

He fell silent, words seemed to be stuck in his throat.

“And you’ll be still, won’t you?” she smiled and grabbed and a handful of his hair and dragged him into an off room with little resistance. “Get comfy, my dear.” she slammed the closet door.

“My lady. If I may ask you one thing.”  
“Hm?”  
“Your eyes flashed, why?”  
“Do you consider witches to be humans?” she laughed off her question with such ease.  
“You are human, aren’t you?”  
“What do you think, Isold? Just know that I am whatever you want me to be.”  
“My lady, I ask that you-”  
“Isold, Isold. Would it change anything? Does it bother you that I make deals with the devil? Am I my own devil? I’ll leave that to you.” she smiled and put her hand on her shoulder. She leaned close to her ear, her warm breath sending chills down the latter’s spine.

“Just know one thing, my sunshine, my golden girl... “

She talked slowly, each word sinking into Isold’s mind.

“I am human, but I can change that at any given moment. For now, I am a raven and you are the note tied around my leg.”

Isold didn’t know what she meant by that but she shook her head.

Jan walked away before she could hear her reply. “I’ll be seeing you, your brother will be here any second…”

“What!? My lady-”

“Your Highness, she is here.” Torsten’s eyes met Isold's. The bandage still wrapped around her. “Your Highness, it is an honor.” Isold rushed to meet the Empress. She bowed before her, holding her armored chest. “Bataar and I must get going now, enjoy your time together. Lady Jan, if you could come with us.”

“At once.”

There they were, brother and sister.

Isold turned her back to him, she couldn’t look at him. Tears rested in the corner of her eye, her hands began to tremble around each other.

“Sister… Isold, my _little sister_.” Torsten cooed, his voice tender like the petals of a flower.  
“Torsten, I can not look at you,” she said, placing her hand over the bandage. “You know where I stand,” she added. Her heart ached, history was standing right behind you.

“I pity you, Isold. I see you’re wrapped around her fingers. She let me go, don’t be such a fool. She is the devil.”  
“Don’t speak of her like that, you... “ she wanted to insult him, but her own words fell short. “You what? Fool? Beast? Look upon the man you vowed to slay.” he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to see her face stained with tears.

“I don’t want to see you! Why don’t you understand?! You’re my own flesh and blood and you wanted to stay when I wanted to leave behind the tribal life! I can’t look at you because of how badly I want to slay you, brother. Are you happy? Seeing me like this? Half blind and soaked in tears?” she hissed, knocking over the empty bottles on the desk. Thick tension was keeping them apart, she wanted to get close but she vowed her duty too much.

“The lady of your life has a demon for a pet. She’s using you for power and you don’t see it? I am your brother and I defended myself from your sword, I love you because you are my kin, I hate you because you will kill me when you get the chance.”

“Torsten, you don’t understand, do you? This holy kingdom is my home, I know my lady has her faults but she knows what she is doing better than any of us. My kin was broken when I took an oath to defend this place, Asmund blood may run through our veins but my kin is not with you. Goodbye, Wolf.”

His heart shattered, he was broken from her words. He took a step towards her.  
“Sister, no matter, you are my family and that is that. I am disappointed you show such loyalty in a kingdom that uses you as its pawn and seeks to take my homeland. Drop your sword and you may come back if my, no, our home hasn't perished. You are among the Wolfgang and blood tells no lies. Goodbye, little sister.”

With his last words, he showed himself out, sadness resting in his own eyes, No tears, just sadness in its rawest form. He knew his place as the White Wolf, he would never forget such a thing. His sister knew her name as the Phoenix and she would do whatever it took to reach the top.

_“So as the way of the wolf of the east, run among the wild, strike down those who disturb the peace of the land, protect all comers, man, woman, child. May your fangs be as sharp as your sword and may the moon always be your path… so as the way of Wolfgang.” she recited the words like she said them every morning when the sun kissed the earth._

_“I am no wolf, cold as ice.”_

_“ I am the phoenix burning in my own ash.”_


End file.
